Assassin's Creed: Conspiracy
by ShiningKami
Summary: A Trainer and her Zekrom are thrown back in time to Masyaf. With only her Pokémon, her wits and vague messages from a mysterious voice, Carrie must figure out her purpose there, while dealing with her confused feelings for a certain Assassin... Rated M for violence, swearing and adult themes later on. A little Altaïr/OC.
1. Prologue: The Holy Land

**This is an idea that jumped into my head while I was playing through Assassin's Creed. It's going to be a long one, so bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or Pokémon, nor any of the characters from these series; they belong to Ubisoft and Nintendo respectively.**

* * *

I crashed to the ground in a heap of dust.

_What the hell just happened?_

It had been a relatively normal day in Twinleaf Town. I had been sitting in my comfy swivel chair in a rare moment of inactivity, rereading one of my favourite books, with my Eevee, Galena and Vee, curled up on my bed, asleep. It was only the beginning of September, but someone somewhere had decided that we had had enough sun, thank you, and raindrops the size of Oran Berries were hammering against my window. That more than anything else had prompted me to forgo training that day and instead take it easy with a book.

Clearly, though, someone had other ideas.

I picked myself up off the ground and surveyed my surroundings. There wasn't really much to see. Mostly grass, though it was fairly sparse; more dust than actual greenery, as though it hadn't seen too much rain recently. That wouldn't actually be too surprising, since it was pretty damned hot. That made me look properly at what I was wearing, and my heart leapt into my mouth.

In Twinleaf, I had been wearing blue jeans, a dark green hoodie and black Converse – comfortable and functional, perfect for training and relaxing in equal measure. So where were they now? Not on me, for sure. Instead, I was clad in brown leather, right down to the combat-style boots on my feet. _What the—? Where did all _this_ come from?_ It all seemed familiar, somehow, but I couldn't place it. In fact, the only pieces of apparel that I recognised as mine were the black leather fingerless gloves on my hands and the black feather that always hung around my neck on its thin loop of wire.

Over the course of my nineteen years, I had been in any number of weird situations. As a veteran Pokémon Trainer, I had met a fair few legendary Pokémon, from Groudon right up to Arceus, and battled against quite a few nasty characters, including a nutcase called Cyrus who wanted to destroy the whole of reality. I had seen actual human ghosts in an old abandoned house, and dragons wheeling in the sky above me. I had even travelled to a dimension beyond the one we all knew, where I found I could walk upside-down.

This beat them all, hands-down.

'Where the hell am I?' I muttered to myself. Certainly, it was nowhere I had been before. A cliff face blocked my view to my right; on my left, a bit of scrubby greenery and a huge drop into a wide expanse of blue-grey water. Nothing to give me any clues as to where I was.

'Ah, hell,' I muttered. What was I going to do now? I had suddenly been yanked from my bedroom and abandoned in some gods-forsaken place, completely alone...

Hey – that was a thought. _Was_ I completely alone? Galena and Vee weren't here, obviously – they must still be at home. I felt a pang of worry for them as I imagined them waking to find me gone. Then I thought of my family, and felt worse. I shook it off, though. No point torturing myself over what-ifs. My family were used to my sudden disappearances, and anyway, right now I needed to focus on _my_ predicament more than anything else.

So – _was_ I actually alone? I patted along my leather-clad torso, searching. Surely I must have...

'Yes,' I whispered. I had discovered pockets in my new leather uniform: two at my hips, two at my thighs, two on each arm. Again, it felt as though I had already known where they would be. And in my left trouser pocket, right where they would usually be, were a clutch of Poké Balls. Three were standard Poké Balls – they belonged to Swampert, Simisage, and Zorua. One was a Great Ball belonging to Arcanine. The fifth was a Dream Ball; Riolu was in that one.

I wasn't alone, after all. I had a team: Swampert, Arc, Zorua, Simi, Riolu. And there was one more Ball.

I glanced around me; no one was in sight, so I held the sixth Ball – an Ultra Ball – full-size in the flat of my hand. 'Zekrom – let's go,' I whispered.

Most people I know think me a little weird for describing Zekrom as 'beautiful'. A huge black bipedal dragon with burning red eyes and huge claws isn't really most people's cup of tea, especially if you compare him to his 'brother' and counterpart, Reshiram. To me, though, Zekrom is utterly beautiful. He's my partner, my other half, my most trusted friend. And the Hero of Ideals goes nowhere without her dragon.

Zekrom materialised in front of me and extended his claws, only to retract them when he saw there was no immediate danger. About two seconds later, he realised that something was amiss and gave me a look of utter bewilderment.

I laughed quietly. 'Yeah, that's pretty much how I feel,' I told him, stowing his Ball back in my pocket.

Zekrom looked around us, taking in everything, including my new attire. His familiar deep voice sounded in my head. _Carrie, what happened? How did we get here?_

'No idea,' I replied. 'I don't even know where _here_ is.' I took another look around, trying to figure it out.

I had already noticed that it was fairly hot here. Now that I was concentrating, I also noticed that the air was slightly thinner than I was used to – we must be at altitude. A mountain, then, judging by the uneven cliffs either side of us. It looked like a road had been carved into the mountain, or it was a natural valley. Either way was fine by me.

'Looks like a mountain...' I trailed off. 'I don't know where, though. We're nowhere I've ever been, that's for sure. You, Zekrom?' It was a slim hope, but maybe my partner had flown here when he had known the first Heroes.

_No. I'm sorry, Carrie,_ he said regretfully.

_Don't be,_ I replied gently. Since Zekrom and I are connected – by what, I have no idea – we can communicate telepathically. It's really helpful, since it means he and I can be physically apart and yet still talk to each other.

_Carrie, don't I recognise that armour from somewhere?_

_Thank Arceus. So it's not just me,_ I said in relief. _Can't place it, though._

_Me neither._

Yeah. Having a huge Electric- and Dragon-type Pokémon for a partner doesn't do a damned bit of good when _he_ doesn't know what's going on either.

Whatever. 'Zekrom, why don't you fly overhead and see if you recognise anything? Landmarks or whatever, you know. Just in case. I'm going to explore.' It was a slim hope, but I wanted to know where I was. Anyway, I wasn't going to find anything out by just standing there like a dummy.

_All right. I will have a look. Be careful, Carrie._ Zekrom took off in a flash of electric blue, scattering dust around me and into my eyes. Thank you, Zekrom. Brushing myself off, I began to walk.

There didn't seem to be anything there, really. Just dust and grass. Why had I been brought here? Surely there had to be a reason; things like this didn't happen to me just to get on my nerves...

_Carrie!_ Zekrom called to me.

_What is it, Zekrom?_ I called back. He didn't sound particularly worried about anything, so I relaxed slightly. Maybe he'd discovered something?

_You should see this. Keep walking; you'll come across it soon._

_What is it?_ I asked.

_You'll see when you get there. It might cheer you up._

_Huh?_ Zekrom didn't reply; he was trying to pique my curiosity. Well, he'd certainly managed it. I broke into a jog, my boots gripping the ground nicely but not slowing me down. That was something, anyway – at least I could run if I had to.

I didn't have too far to go. Zekrom had landed in an alcove in the rock; he pointed with one enormous claw at a small heap on the ground.

It was right in front of me; even without Zekrom, I would have had no chance of missing it. When I reached it, I gasped.

Lying on the ground were an odd selection of items: a sword with a black hilt, and a sheath made of light metal, also coloured black; a small evil-looking dagger in a leather sheath; a leather pouch designed to be worn around the waist; a canvas bag that could be worn across the shoulder; a wooden bow with silver fittings by the grip, with a quiver full of arrows. _What the...? What is all this?_

OK, so the pouch and bag were both mine, but it was weird that they were here, now, since the last time I had seen them they had been piled in a corner in my bedroom. As for the weapons, the bow I knew: I had got hold of it a few years before and trained myself to use it. The sword and dagger, on the other hand, were completely unfamiliar to me.

I had never had cause to use any weapons in Sinnoh – why would I? For one thing, I would probably be arrested immediately if anyone saw them. For another, no circumstances had ever _given_ me cause to wield them. I kind of knew how to use them, though – and if they had been brought here with me, I would obviously have to. 'Aw, hell,' I muttered.

I picked up the pouch and fitted it around my waist; the dagger hung neatly at my hip from the strap. After a moment of hesitation, I hung the sword on my back, the hilt angled towards my left shoulder, and swung the quiver across it so I could reach into it with my right hand. Finally, I picked up my bow and swung it onto my back. Now, if I encountered any danger, I could fight back.

Which, I conceded, was probably the point.

'How did they get here, Zekrom?' I asked. I didn't expect an answer, but it made me feel better saying it.

_No idea. It is good that they _are_ here, though; I see armed guards up ahead. They carry swords, not guns._ My partner paused for a second. I had the ability to sense emotions, so I could tell that there was something bothering him. _Carrie..._ he said awkwardly. _This is going to sound ridiculous, but..._ His voice trailed off.

_Go on,_ I urged him gently.

My partner steeled himself. _I think...we might have travelled in time._

Well, that came out of nowhere.

'Whaaaat?' I exclaimed – just as a second voice crashed into my head.

_Congratulations, Heroes of Ideals. Yes, you have travelled in time. Listen well, that you may survive your time here._

I jumped about a foot into the air. _That voice—! It can't be..._ For I recognised the velvety female voice – I had heard it before, in my dreams.

_What the—? What's going on? How can you be doing this?_ I screamed silently. _Why are you talking to me now? I'm not asleep, I'm..._ I shut up abruptly. How could I be sure I _wasn't_ dreaming? I pinched my arm, hard. It hurt a lot, which meant...something.

_It's not a dream, is it? I'm stuck with it,_ I thought._ Aw, _shit_._

I knew that time travel was possible. I had once met Dialga, the Temporal Pokémon and counterpart to the Spatial Pokémon, Palkia. But Dialga and Palkia weren't here, or, I was certain, in Twinleaf Town in 2012. Pal especially – we had an understanding, and he would have let me know if he was planning to send me halfway across the planet or wherever the hell I was. So how had I got here?

Thinking about it was making my head hurt, so I steered the questioning back to why. _Why did you bring us here? More to the point, where the hell are we, anyway?_

The voice had never properly answered my questions in my dreams, so I was surprised when it responded. _Syria, 1191. You may recognise it by the old collective name, the Holy Land._

I froze, stunned. _Holy Land...1191..._ If my history served me well, we had landed right in the middle of the Crusades.

Crap.

_Yes, Carrie, this is the time of the Third Crusade. Now you might understand why I provided you with your weapons. Now look ahead of you, that you may see your destination._

I did as the voice said; I was in too much shock to do anything else. Looming above me in the middle distance was a wall. Beyond it, high up on a hill, a large, impressive-looking building. A fortress?

_That is Masyaf. Go there,_ the voice commanded. Masyaf...the name rang a bell. I couldn't remember why, though.

_You have a part to play that will determine the fate of this land, and that of your kind. Now go, daughter of Nailah. Do not fail._

_Wait!_ I cried. _What do you mean, the fate of my kind? And what do you mean by 'daughter of Nailah'?_ I was met with silence. _Come back!_ I cried, though I knew it was useless.

I couldn't believe it. In the space of fifteen minutes, my greatest priority in life had changed from training my team for the next Pokémon League tournament to – if that voice was to be believed – saving the human race. In 1191.

'Did you hear all of that, Zekrom?' I asked shakily.

_Yes. What do you want to do, Carrie?_

I considered the question for a moment. The truth was, there wasn't really anything I _could_ do apart from obey. I was stuck in the twelfth century with six Pokémon, a mysterious voice in my head that was now talking to me in my waking moments as well as my dreams, and, I realised, absolutely no idea of the language.

_Arabic,_ Zekrom supplied helpfully. _Some English, French, German, but those would be spoken by Crusaders. They, unfortunately, are not located in __Masyaf.__Saracen soldiers, on the other hand, will speak Turkish as well as Arabic. They are not located in Masyaf either._

Well, crap. English was my first language, and I could speak French well enough to get by and a few words of German, but as for the others...next to nothing.

_Do you know any Arabic or Turkish, Zekrom?_ I asked hopefully.

_Some,_ he replied. _My brothers and I travelled to many lands when we were one, and I had a long time to learn while I waited in the Stone. I know enough to get by, but not enough to translate everything for you. Sorry._

I sighed. There was only one thing I could do. And anyway, it was an adventure, right?

'Let's go, pal,' I said. I squared my shoulders and tried to feel brave.

'To Masyaf.'

* * *

**So yeah, that's my prologue. Just a little introduction to Carrie and Zekrom before things start in earnest.**

**A little backstory to Carrie: she's a Pokémon Trainer from Sinnoh, and has been partnered with Zekrom for two years. Think of her as the parallel of Touko from Black and White (I refuse to use her English name. I mean, come on – Hilda? Seriously?), except with some extra weirdness thrown in.**

**Anyway, reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated!**

**~ShiningKami**


	2. Chapter 1: Masyaf

**A follow and a favourite with just the prologue posted! I feel all warm and fuzzy :)**

**Anyway, let's crack on.**

* * *

The streets of twelfth-century Masyaf were surprisingly empty, was my first thought upon entering the town. My second was that I wouldn't want to live here.

Clearly something had happened here, and recently, because the ground was stained with dried blood. That would explain the lack of hustle and bustle. There were still a fair few people, though – enough to make me nervous.

It was only then that I realised just how much I stood out. Yes, I was wearing armour and carrying weapons, but – and this was the crucial part – I was a girl. A girl, in armour, carrying a sword, a bow, and a dagger. In short, I was about as inconspicuous as a Steinway in a freaking junkyard.

The leather armour had a hood, so I flipped it up to hide my face. I just hoped that it and the cuirass were enough to hide my gender and help me keep a low profile. I was glad that Zekrom had taken to the air before I reached the town, because I didn't really want to draw any more attention to myself.

As I moved slowly through the streets, though, it became increasingly obvious that I wasn't really drawing much notice. Surprisingly enough, none of the guards, all armed with longswords, paid too much attention either. Huh. I guessed my hood was more effective than I thought. Buoyed by this, I lifted my face slightly and looked around with more interest.

The town was built into the side of a mountain, I gathered, with high wooden walls surrounding the lower part where I had entered. A small market and a well dominated this area. Further up was what I could only call the residential area, what with the predominance of small one- or two-storey buildings. Most were in pretty good nick, but a few were run-down and abandoned, with crumbling walls and little to no roof. It was when I was passing one such ruin when I felt _something_, an instinct, that made me spin a quarter-turn in a dodge.

And it was well I did, because, from out of the small crowd, a tall, powerful-looking man lunged towards me, his face hidden by a white hood and a small but deadly-looking blade in his left hand.

'Shit! What the—' I gasped as the figure stumbled past me, almost falling on his face. He managed not to, though, rolling as he hit the ground to get back to his feet before swinging a punch at my jaw. Instinctively, I brought up both hands to block the attack, only to leap backwards as the dagger whizzed past my midsection. If not for the harsh sun glinting off the metal, I wouldn't have seen it coming. Whoever this guy was, he was a good fighter – and he clearly meant business. _If this is how they treat visitors, I'd hate to see what happens to invaders._

As a second _Dan_ in karate, a fifth _Kyu_ in taekwondo and an accomplished street fighter, I knew about hand-to-hand combat, and my honed instincts kicked in. I feinted, then sent a crescent kick into the man's side. He grunted slightly in pain, and I took the opportunity to leap behind him and hit him in the back with a spinning side kick.

Most people would have folded right then – taking a kick to the spine isn't a pleasant experience – but not him. Oh, he staggered a little, but recovered quickly, much more quickly than I'd expected. This was enough to unnerve me such that I didn't react to the back-fisted strike until it came into contact with my face. It was a hard strike, but quick, rather like the karate move known as the _uraken_. It hurt rather a lot too, which just made me angry.

My assailant kept on the attack, forcing me to back up into the confines of the ruined house. I blocked his strikes as best I could, but he was relentless, and I soon found myself struggling. _Gods, this guy's good!_ I thought in shock. It was so unlike me to to be overwhelmed in a fight that I was thrown off my game even more. _Oh, man, this is bad..._

_Carrie!_ Zekrom called in alarm – our connection had told him that I was in trouble._ I'm coming!_

_No, Zekrom!_ I commanded. _Stay put!_ The last thing I needed was to attract any _more_ unwanted attention.

Zekrom knew better than to argue with me, so he only said, _All right. But if you need my help, I'm coming down, no matter what._

That wouldn't be good. Not only would the sight of a huge black dragon cause panic among citizens and guards alike, Zekrom's idea of 'help' meant 'launch a Fusion Bolt at the enemy'. And since this guy had jumped on me with no warning or explanation, I didn't actually know if he was an enemy or not. It could all just be a mistake, right? If it was, I couldn't just put the guy back together and say, 'Sorry, old chap, just a misunderstanding, no hard feelings', could I? No, I would have to deal with this myself. As in, take him out. Hard.

_All right. Enough of this,_ I thought.

I spun on one foot and lunged towards what remained of the wall behind me. Inspired by a particularly memorable – mostly for all the wrong reasons – battle between my Emboar and a Bisharp, I used the wall to brace one foot before pushing off and leaping into the air, aiming for the man's throat.

He didn't have a chance.

My whole weight landed on his upper body, sending him staggering backwards, his knees buckling beneath him. My hood fell back, caught by the sudden rush of wind, but I couldn't take the time to adjust it; instead, I slammed the heels of my hands into his windpipe. He stumbled back a couple of steps, choking and struggling to stay upright, as I landed somewhat neatly on my feet. Immediately, I aimed a double punch squarely at his face. It might have been a perfect takedown, if not for that blade.

The man's left hand came up, as though to try and push me off, but he didn't. Instead, the slim blade I had seen before seemed to extend out towards me as he aimed for my ribs.

_He had a freaking retractable blade!_

The adrenaline pumping through my body seemed to heighten my senses, so I saw the blade sliding towards me as though in slow motion. Aware that I was possibly milliseconds from death, I cut short my punch and jabbed the side of my fist down into the man's forearm. It was a desperate move, but it was enough to allow me to draw my dagger from its sheath and block the next strike as the blade rose up. With my opponent's blade stopped, at least for the moment, I was able to land a short snap punch right in his face.

The young man sucked in a hissing breath as he reeled back, and blood began running from his nose. I allowed myself a small grin – I hadn't had much room to strike, and was pleased that it had worked.

That pause, that moment of arrogance, was my undoing.

My opponent's fist crashed into my jaw, whipping my head to the side. I automatically spun with it, following my own momentum, at which point the man slammed his full weight onto my shoulders, smashing me face first into the wall. I lashed out with my elbow, then froze as cold steel pressed against the back of my exposed neck.

_Shit._

Seconds dragged by like hours as I stood there, immobilised by shock, my cheek pressed into rough stone. Blood trickled into my mouth – my upper lip had split when I had impacted with the wall. Belatedly, I remembered the dagger in my right hand, but as soon as I made to raise it, a strong, rough hand caught my wrist and twisted it painfully. I gritted my teeth so I wouldn't cry out, but I had to let go.

Mehrunes' Razor fell into the dust.

_Double shit._

We stood there in silence for a while longer, me against the wall, him holding a knife to my neck. All of my focus was on that blade. Then I realised that I was still alive, and wondered why. Clearly this man didn't want me dead, so I decided to risk speaking to him.

'Get the hell off of me,' I snarled weakly. It was the first thing that came into my head, and probably not the wisest. I could see him in my peripheral vision, albeit only a little, since his face was concealed under his white hood. He didn't reply, and it occurred to me that I was snarling at him in my own language. Did he even understand me? _I knew the language barrier would be a problem..._

_Carrie?_ Zekrom called, worried.

_I'm OK,_ I assured him. I wasn't really, but I didn't want him making an entrance and possibly making things worse. OK, how much worse could things get? Well, my mysterious captor might decide to actually kill me... _Zekrom, stay there, pal. I'm OK._

Zekrom clearly wasn't happy, but he didn't argue with me.

A breeze suddenly gusted through the confined space, carrying with it a clear, seductive scent. I remembered that I had made the man's nose bleed, and it was sending a rush of desire straight through me.

_Oh, fuck,_ I thought desperately. This _is how much worse it could get._ I didn't want this, didn't want to be reminded of _that_ incident, or of the implications it had had on my already messed-up life. And I did _not_ want to fall victim to my instincts, especially not now. _No,_ I thought fiercely._ No, don't kick in now, don't you _dare_ kick in now..._

A few more seconds passed as I fought hard to control the combination of petrification and bloodlust. Finally, to my surprise, the man spoke, his mouth close to my ear.

'Keep still. I do not want to harm you, but I will if you resist. Do you understand?' His voice was quiet, firm, and held a strong note of authority. It scraped slightly in his throat, and I suspected that that was more to do with the slam in the windpipe he had taken rather than anything else. Then I belatedly realised the obvious – _he was speaking in English._ Fluently, too, with a subtle, rather attractive accent. I guessed he had worked out what language I spoke because of my outburst when he jumped on me, and my snarled threat moments before. _Where did he learn to speak English? It's not exactly a common tongue in Masyaf; Zekrom said so..._ Either way, it took care of the language problem.

Then I remembered that he was waiting for a response. I only dared nod my head slightly; I was still very much aware of that blade, and of the scent of fresh blood that still tempted me. Only the threat of imminent impalement stopped me reversing our positions; throwing him against the wall, retrieving my dagger, opening a wound and taking him...

_No, Carrie!_ I screamed, disgusted with myself. _For Arceus's sake, girl! Focus!_

The man had seen me nod. 'Good,' he said. Then, 'Be still.' The words carried a tinge of threat, and I forced myself to not even twitch as he moved back from me. I heard the sibilant sound of metal sliding over metal, and realised that he was removing my sword from its sheath. A few seconds later, I felt the weight of my bow being lifted from my back. Damn it, he was disarming me! And all the while, that blade never moved a millimetre from my neck. _He must be pretty scared of me,_ I mused. _I mean, how much more helpless can I _be_?_

Finally, the man took hold of my shoulder with his free hand and steered me back into the street. 'Walk in front of me, slowly,' he instructed quietly. 'Do not try to run. If you do, I will kill you. Is that clear?'

I nodded again, too freaked-out to do anything else. _Dear Arceus, what have I got myself into _now_?_

He pushed gently at my back, and I began to move with slow, unsteady steps. This was not good, even by my standards. _What does he want with me? Where is he taking me?_ To be safe, I called out to my partner. _Zekrom?_

_Carrie? What happened?_ His voice was full of worry.

I didn't bother to explain. _I'm being escorted somewhere. Can you see me?_

_Wait..._ he said. Then, _Yes, I see you. That man in white – was he the one who attacked you?_

_Yes,_ I replied shortly. _Can you follow me overhead? Stay out of sight, but close enough to get me out of trouble if I need you. Can you do that, Zekrom?_ I waited anxiously for a reply.

_Of course. I look forward to giving that man hell. He will regret wishing harm on my hero..._ I could sense Zekrom's anger, like the swirling of the dark clouds that precede a storm.

_Wait,_ I told him hastily. Before he could do anything stupid, I explained, _He told me he doesn't want to hurt me. He's holding a blade to my neck, but I think he's just scared of me._ Even as I said it, I knew I was right. I had the ability to sense emotions, and I could sense my captor's now: apprehension, determination, and, yes, more than a little fear. But there was curiosity too, and a kind of gentleness that I wouldn't have expected from a man who had attacked me with no warning. _I don't blame him, either,_ I told Zekrom._ To be fair, I _do_ stick out. I guess the armour wasn't able to hide the fact that, oh yeah, I'm a _girl_._

Zekrom coughed out a laugh in my head. _You're right. Seeing a woman of any age carrying weapons _is_ a rarity in this time._ He paused for a couple of seconds, obviously thinking things through._ All right. I trust you. Don't let your guard down, and if you need me, call. I'm right here if you do._

_Thanks, Zekrom._ Speaking to my partner made me feel marginally better. It didn't change the fact that I was still in a huge amount of trouble, though. Since I didn't really want to be speared in the spine, I walked slowly through the streets, guided by the young man behind me. As I did, I looked around me, taking in everything, looking for landmarks in case I could risk making a run for it.

We were moving steadily up, past the market stalls and houses, towards a steeper area surrounded by high stone walls. Was I being taken up to the fortress Zekrom and I had seen earlier?

Civilians looked warily at us, but made no attempt to approach; indeed, they were keeping well out of our way. No, not at _us_, I realised – they were all looking _past_ me, at the young man who was still close behind me. He had removed the blade from my neck – I guessed he was smart enough not to be seen threatening a teenage girl at knifepoint – but I was under no illusion that he couldn't replace it very quickly. _I guess that's why no one stopped to help me, or even watch, when we were fighting,_ I thought. I wondered if the man had a reputation around Masyaf, and if the townspeople were wary of him for good reason. _No freaking duh, Carrie,_ I chided myself – he had already proved that he was a force to reckon with.

As for the guards dotted around, they looked at us with more curiosity than fear, but still didn't approach or make any attempt to speak to my captor. It was only as I watched them that I noticed that they were all wearing white robes, like the man who had attacked me. I filed the information away, in case it was significant.

Once we had ascended the steep slope, I looked around to find myself in a courtyard of sorts, outside the fortress. I had been right – that _was_ where I was being taken. There were more white-robed figures here than lower in the town, and they were all staring. I began to feel very uncomfortable.

One young man ran over to us, and spoke to my captor in his own language. The man behind me replied briefly. I didn't have a clue what the exchange meant, but I sensed the emotions behind it. The man I could see, the one who had his hood down, seemed to be taunting or interrogating the other; his dark eyes were full of resentment and an anger that startled even me. It was white-hot, smouldering, and directed exclusively at my captor. I had only sensed such fury towards an individual a couple of times before, such was the depth of the emotion; it even managed to distract me from my own bloodlust. _Holy moly._

As for the man at my back, he was angry too, but his was more of an irritated anger than anything else. More, it was the anger of a soul humiliated. I wasn't sure what the argument was about, but I suspected it was to do with me, from the way the angry man gestured in my direction.

Finally, he stalked off in the opposite direction, leaving us alone. I don't know what made me do it, but I saw that my captor was still distracted, and I made a break for it.

An explosive leap got me away from the man before he noticed I was even moving, and I began to run. Still shaky from the fight, I stumbled, almost falling, but I had to keep going. _Zekrom!_ I yelled. _Up and away!_ That was the signal for him to land and pick me up. If I could get far enough...

Too late.

A hand grabbed my arm with surprising strength – the young man I had just fled from had managed to catch up to me, which astonished me. How had he done that? I could outrun almost anybody, _and_ I had had a head start. I couldn't think too much about that particular curiosity, though, because I was suddenly crushed back against his chest and that damned blade was pressing into my throat.

_Oh, no,_ I thought. _Oh, gods, no. This is it, I'm going to die... Stay put, Zekrom, please... I... Oh, Zekrom..._

But the man just put his lips close to my ear and murmured, 'I told you not to run. Believe me, I do not wish you harm, but I cannot have you escape.' I swallowed hard. My whole body was shaking. It had been a while since I'd been this scared. I hadn't been this scared for myself since...

I squeezed my eyes shut, hard, to try and block out the unpleasant memories. I had little success – the scent of the man's blood was still all around me, a reminder of what I had become.

'_Why are you doing this? Why? Please, stop, _please_...'_

My own voice, echoing uselessly in my ears, pleading... I clenched my fists, digging my nails into the flesh, trying to focus on something else, _anything_ else. Only when the man spoke to me again was I able to ground myself slightly.

'Now,' he said quietly, 'Will you walk, or do I have to drag you?'

I didn't want to move my head, so I tried to speak, realised that my mouth was completely dry, and cleared my throat. 'I'll walk,' I managed to whisper. Damn it, I could still smell him...

'Fine.' The blade moved away, but his other hand rested firmly on my shoulder. Just in case I tried to run again. Fat chance of that; my legs were doing a pretty crappy job of even holding me up by this point.

The man took me into the fortress, and led me up a set of stairs. I saw that we were approaching a man in black robes standing facing a wide window. _Zekrom, can you see this?_ I asked.

_Yes. That fortress..._ he replied.

_There's a window at the back, on the first floor. If you can hover outside it, just out of sight—_

_I hear you. I'm on my way._

With Zekrom's reassurance making me feel a little better, I approached.

The young man holding my shoulder spoke a single word in his own language, and the man in black turned around. He was probably at least sixty or so, but what I could see of his body under his robe looked powerful. Like the young man in white, he was wearing a hood, but I could see a few distinguishing features – a greyish-white beard and dark, intelligent eyes. He was clearly a leader of some kind – I knew authority when I saw it.

He looked surprised to see the young man. I saw his eyes dart quickly between us, taking in my appearance, the young man's still-bleeding nose, my split lip. He spoke to my captor, again in Arabic. I was starting to get fed up with this linguistic nightmare, so I was pleasantly surprised when the man in white replied in English.

'I found her near the town entrance. She is unfamiliar to me.' He continued in Arabic, but I had heard enough.

'Oh, right, so you attacked me because you didn't recognise me? You _idiot_. If this is how you treat—' I was cut off as the younger man kicked me in the back of one knee, forcing me to the ground. 'Ow!' I glared over my shoulder at him. 'Take your hands _the hell off of me_!' I wasn't scared any more – just furious. 'And,' I added, 'I'll have you know that my partner is just outside that window, and if you even _try_ to lay a _finger_ on me, he'll be ripping this place apart to get to me. You hear me?'

The young man made no reply but to move his retractable blade towards me, hoping to intimidate me into silence. I had had it – I smacked his hand out of the way. 'That thing goes near me one more time, I'm gonna shove it _straight up your arse_!' I snarled.

'Enough!' the older man snapped, stepping out from behind his desk. Even with that one word, I could tell that his English was perfect. His voice was cultured, powerful, commanding; he spoke with the same Middle Eastern accent as the young man who had attacked me. He was _definitely_ a leader.

I glared at him, but shut up. 'You are English, yes?' he asked me.

I rolled my eyes. If I had a Poké dollar for every time I've been asked that... _Technically, I was born in Johto, but English is my native language... _'Close enough.'

'Who are you?' he demanded.

I snorted. 'Like I'm gonna tell you that,' I sneered. OK, it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do, but I was far too angry and freaked-out to be sensible at that point.

'My student tells me you walked into Masyaf without challenge,' the older man said. 'How?'

I shrugged as best I could from on my knees. 'I walked.'

'Why do you come here?' His dark eyes probed mine. I could sense that I was already starting to irritate him.

'What, here specifically or just the town?' I shot back. ''Cause if it's the former, I think the answer's pretty obvious: I was dragged here, at knifepoint, by this big lug!'

The old man's face – what I could see of it – clouded with anger. What can I say? I have that effect on people. It's a talent. One that has got me into trouble before, admittedly, but still.

'Watch your tongue, girl!' he barked at me. 'You come here armed; you injure one of my men—'

'Hang on!' I protested. 'I don't know what this guy told you, but _he_ attacked _me_, not the other way around! I had to defend myself! Anyway, he's fine, look at him!' I gestured to the younger man, who, indeed, seemed little the worse for wear, but for the bloody nose. I also noticed that my sword was hooked into the wide red sash he wore around his waist. If I could get to it...

'Silence!' The old guy looked ready to pop a vessel, so I shut up. In a voice dark with repressed anger, he said, 'You come to Masyaf alone but armed as for battle. You fight as though trained for combat. Who sent you here?'

That was a tough one. Well, I couldn't really say _a voice in my head_, could I? In the end, I settled with, 'No one sent me. I came of my own will.'

'Do not lie to me!' My head jerked to the side, and I realised that the man had just backhanded me across the face. _Dear gods, that actually hurt!_ I tasted my own blood, hot and salty, but not in a good way. Funny, that – what was it about my (for want of a better word) abilities that meant they worked on everyone but me?

It was definitely a stupid thing to do, but I was so angry I didn't care – I spat a gob of blood and saliva at the black-cloaked man. I hit his robe. 'Bastard!' I spat.

I seriously thought that he was going to have a stroke any second, his face was so red. He reached behind him and took up a long sword that rested on the desk. _Oops,_ I thought.

The old man tightened his grip on the sword. 'You will answer truthfully, girl—'

I reacted instinctively, without thinking. As the old man made to raise the sword, I struck out, balancing myself on the balls of my feet and landing a high snap kick on his hand from a crouched position. The sword hit the deck with a metallic clatter, and the man clutched his hand reflexively, staring at me in utter shock.

I heard a suppressed snort from above me, and realised in surprise that the younger man was – inexplicably – trying not to laugh. _Huh._

As for me, I snapped back into a crouched position and gave the old man my trademark defiant half-smile. He looked at me furiously. I wasn't surprised – that smile has infuriated a great many people. It's the reason I have a scar on my mouth...but that's another story.

The old man's simmering anger suddenly exploded into violence as he struck me again, hard, this time on the other cheek. His hands, scarred and calloused, twitched, as though longing to latch around my throat. In fact, I sensed that they were about to – when the younger man stepped between us.

'Master,' he said.

The old man stopped. The young man – his student, the old guy had said –spoke quietly to him in Arabic. He spoke quickly, occasionally looking and gesturing at me. Even though I couldn't understand what he was saying, I found myself focusing hard on his voice. I liked it – it was very cool, very confident, and very, very alluring. Very much like the scent of his blood, in fact.

_Zekrom?_ I said before I lost my train of thought. It wouldn't do to get distracted _now_.

_Yes, Carrie?_

I rubbed my sore cheek. _What's he saying, do you know?_

Zekrom paused to listen through me, then said, _I believe he's attempting to persuade his master that you are no danger to them. I can hear the word 'innocent'. He believes you're an innocent._

_Glad someone does._ I felt an unexpected rush of warmth towards this mysterious young man. Even though he had attacked me and put a blade to my throat, he was trying to help me now. He said he hadn't wanted to hurt me before, either. I sensed that beneath that scary warrior lay a kind soul.

Finally, the old man seemed to calm down. His student stepped back to cover me.

'_Thank you,'_ I mouthed at the young man. He looked back at me before he moved out of my sight, and I saw his eyes for the first time: a beautiful dark brown, flecked with gold.

Damn. A gorgeous voice, fresh blood, and now brown eyes. I was a goner.

The old guy wasn't done with me yet, though, so I had to abandon _that_ train of thought.

'Did Robert send you?' he demanded.

'Uh...who?' I asked, nonplussed – and, to be honest, still captivated by thoughts of brown eyes and dark blood. _Focus, Carrie,_ I commanded myself._ Uh... Robert... Sounds French._ I remembered Zekrom telling me that some Crusaders spoke French. _Zekrom, are you hearing this?_ I asked him.

_Loud and clear,_ he sent back.

_Does the name _'Robert'_ mean anything to you?_ I asked him. _I think he's a Crusader, most likely French._

Zekrom thought for a moment. _No, sorry. Not without a last name._

_OK. No prob._ I turned my attention back to the room. The exchange had taken only a couple of seconds, since we were communicating via our thoughts rather than orally.

'Do not feign ignorance, girl!' the old man warned. He went on dangerously, 'I believe you come here as an enemy of the Assassin Order, although my student would have me believe otherwise. Do you deny it?'

'What?' I exclaimed, bewildered. 'Assassin Order? What the heck are you...' I trailed off as a titbit of information from long ago suddenly resurfaced. _Masyaf...and Assassins..._

I suddenly felt as though I'd been hit very hard over the head with a Timburr's block of wood. How could I have been so stupid? Now I knew why the name Masyaf was so familiar to me...

'You...' I whispered. I looked from one man to the other. 'All of you...' It all made sense now – why the guards all wore white robes like the man who had attacked me, why no one had reacted to the sight of a young woman being shepherded at knifepoint, why the civilians had given the young man a wide berth... I looked back at the older man. 'You're Assassins.'

I had read about the Assassins. They had come into prominence at the beginning of the twelfth century in this very place, led by a man known as 'The Old Man of Masyaf'. I had read that young boys were taken into the Order and taught their craft from a young age. They were taught all sorts of languages so they could talk in any country, which explained why these two could speak English so well. They were trained, their whole lives, to kill. And I was right in the middle of their territory.

I swallowed, hard. '_Shit._'

Behind me, I sensed the young man's confusion. 'You did not know?'

'No, I bloody well didn't!' I almost shrieked back. 'Otherwise I'd have run a freaking mile when you started trying to kill me!' _Dear Arceus, what have I got myself into _now_?_

'You claim not to know us?' The old guy was also slightly confused, but I could tell that he was still a little grumpy, and very suspicious.

'Like I said, if I'd known, I would've run like hell before I came anywhere _near_ this place, retractable blade be damned,' I told him. 'Speaking of blades...' I got to my feet – slowly, so I didn't startle either of them and risk a dagger in the back – and turned to the young Assassin with the brown eyes. 'Can I please have my stuff back, now that we've established that I'm not your enemy?'

He looked at the older man, clearly at a loss. Thankfully, he didn't try to shove me to the ground again. 'Master?'

The older man held up a hand. 'Wait, Altaïr.' He fixed his piercing eyes on me. 'Identify yourself.'

'You two first,' I risked. _Know your enemy...even if they're not trying to kill you at the moment._ I turned back to the brown-eyed Assassin before either of them could argue. 'You're...Altaïr?' I asked him. He nodded.

Huh. _Alta__ï__r..._I liked that name. 'Altaïr...' I repeated, savouring the word. _Beautiful._

He nodded again. 'And you?'

Hmm... How to answer that? Daughter of Nailah? Hero of Ideals? Champion of that bastard who had turned me into a blood-lusting monster? In the end, I simply said, 'I am called Carrie.'

Silence reigned for a moment as the old man processed this. Under his hood, I saw a flicker in his dark eyes. Had he noticed my choice of words? Maybe; those eyes told me that this guy was as sharp as a Haxorus' claws. Either way, he didn't comment on it, but nodded in acknowledgement.

'And I am known as Al Mualim,' he told me.

_That means 'the Master',_ Zekrom chipped in helpfully. _I assume he is the leader of the Assassins – the 'Old Man of the Mountain'._

'Huh. Egotistical much?' I said out loud, without thinking. The old guy's face darkened, and I held up both hands in surrender. 'Sorry.' I did my best to seem contrite. Fortunately for me, it seemed to work.

'And you say that you have nothing to do with Robert?' Al Mualim phrased it as a question.

'I literally have no idea who you're talking about,' I told him.

The room was silent again for a while. Eventually, the old man said to his student, 'Altaïr, what do you think?'

The younger Assassin was clearly confused. 'You ask for my opinion, Master?'

'Why not? Your judgement of people, at least, seems somewhat sound,' the old man said dryly. The younger man – _Alta__ï__r_ – clenched his fists, and his strong jaw tightened. The old man's words had clearly hit a nerve. It took him a few moments for him to compose himself and answer, 'Master, I do not believe this girl is our enemy.'

The room was silent, so he continued. 'She arrived here armed, and with knowledge of combat, it is true. However, I believe she truly had no knowledge of us. She is no danger to the Brotherhood.'

Al Mualim nodded acceptance. 'I will trust in your judgement, Altaïr.' Then, to me, 'You are free to go.'

I blew out a long breath. 'Gods, that was actually frightening,' I said, more to myself than anyone else – rather shakily, it had to be said. I touched a finger to my lip. It had stopped bleeding now, but it still hurt. 'Can I have my equipment back now, please?' I asked Altaïr. He complied, handing over my bow, sword and dagger. I replaced them on my person, feeling rather better. For one thing, my life wasn't explicitly in danger. For another, the scent of blood had almost faded by now. Almost.

_Stand down, Zekrom. Panic over,_ I told my partner.

_And not before time,_ he replied. _I was about to launch a Focus Blast through the window._

_Please don't,_ I said, but I was smiling, and he knew it.

'You carry a lot of weapons for a woman,' the younger Assassin noted.

I shot him an irritated look. 'I might be a girl, but I can fight,' I reminded him. Sexist pig.

'Sorry about your nose, by the way,' I added. It seemed only fair, since he'd stopped his master taking me apart. 'Are you all right?'

He nodded back curtly.

Al Mualim focused on me. 'If you are not here as an enemy of the Assassins, why _are_ you here?' he asked.

For the third time, I had no idea of how to answer. I ran through a series of possible responses in my head. None seemed really convincing. _Zekrom? A little help here._

_Hmm..._ Zekrom thought for a moment. Finally, he suggested, _Why not just tell them the truth?_

_What? You mean, like, _A voice in my head told me to_? I can't see that going down too well,_ I pointed out.

_No. I mean, just tell them why we were sent here. Don't say _how_, or _who._ Just _why.

_Oh._ It all became clear. _I always knew there was a reason I keep you around,_ I teased.

_Very amusing._

Grinning to myself, I turned my attention back to the room. In answer to the old man's question, I said, 'I came searching for something. I'm just passing through.'

His face darkened. 'Searching for what?'

'Answers.'

That gave him pause. He turned away from us for a moment, thinking.

I glanced over at Altaïr, questioning. He met my eyes, but didn't respond. _How rude,_ I thought irritably.

When the older man turned back to us, he asked of me, 'Do you know where you must go next?'

'No. Not a clue.'

He nodded, as though this was the answer he expected. 'In that case... Altaïr, you have yet to travel to Damascus?' He obviously already knew the answer, but Altaïr confirmed it anyway. 'Yes... I wish to send this girl – Carrie, yes?' He checked for confirmation; I nodded.

'—Carrie, to accompany you,' he concluded.

A dead silence hit the room. For a few seconds, both of us were struck dumb. Then, as though a stopper had been released, we both started protesting at the same time.

'Oh, come _on_—'

'Master, this is—'

'_Enough!'_ Al Mualim snapped. We fell silent. I couldn't keep quiet for very long, though.

'This is _stupid_. I'm nineteen years old; I'm a Trainer and highly trained archer; I have my partner out there—' I gestured out the window, '—to keep an eye on me; I do not need a bodyguard or a babysitter. I can handle _myself_.'

Altaïr also couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut. 'Master, with respect, my task requires focus; it is not my job to look after every traveller who wanders into the town—'

'I don't _need_ you to look after me,' I shot back. It was embarrassing enough that I had been beaten in a fistfight by a _guy_ – it was even _worse_ that this so-called 'Master' thought I needed the same man to look out for me! 'Just so you know, just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't take care of myself, you _idiot_.'

'You seemed barely capable of _taking care of yourself_ earlier,' he shot back.

Now I was mad. 'You want to take this back outside?' I challenged, enraged. 'Assassin or not, I can take you down, easy, you—'

'That is_ enough_!' Al Mualim looked ready to blow a fuse. I glared at the younger Assassin, but shut up; I didn't want to be responsible for the untimely death of the leader of the Assassin Order. He waited to see if either of us would interrupt again, then spoke directly to his student. 'Consider this, Altaïr – acting as a guide for this young woman will urge you to look at the consequences of the actions you undertake. If you follow the Creed, you will keep her safe—'

'Excuse _me_,' I interrupted, 'but, as I said, I don't _need_ anyone to _keep me safe—_'

'Ah, but child,' the old man said to me, 'therein lies the irony. You are too arrogant, too confident in your own abilities. No—' He raised a hand to silence me as I protested. 'Altaïr shares your opinions – that he can, to use your phrase, "handle himself". But you have proved that you are skilled in combat at least, if my student's injury is anything to go by.' I saw the younger man's face flush under his hood; I smirked at him.

'Can you use those weapons you carry?' Al Mualim asked me.

I flipped my fringe out of my eyes impatiently. 'You didn't think I carried them for show, did you?' I retorted.

The old man nodded approvingly. 'Then you can keep Altaïr alive while he lacks the majority of his own weapons. And he will, in turn, keep _you_ alive while you carry out your search.'

The plan seemed OK enough on the surface – it would be a good idea to have some form of guidance around here, and an Assassin was the best person to have around. Sure, they were killers, but it meant that they knew how to survive. Still, I was uneasy about the whole thing. Of course, my pride smarted at the fact that I would have to stick with this guy. And then there was the fact that I really didn't like being patronised, _or_ referred to as _'child'_. But more, it was the look in Al Mualim's dark eyes as he finished his pitch. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about it unnerved me – something that made me think, _He suspects something. He suspects that there's more to my arrival here than I told him._

And, of course, he'd be right.

_Zekrom, what do you think?_ I asked my partner.

_It's your decision, Carrie. You're the hero; I'm just the dragon._

_Don't be a smartarse,_ I told him. _Just help me out, will you?_

Zekrom chuckled in his deep, resonant voice, then replied, _I think you should take him up on his offer. I know you're uneasy, but _some_ guidance is better than none. Anyway, you like Alta__ï__r, don't you?_

I could swear I felt myself blushing. _I don't know what you mean._

_Of course you don't. Either way, it's up to you._

I thought for a moment. Loath as I was to admit it, Zekrom was right – accepting help was better than stumbling around blindly. I swore in my head a bit, then sighed, 'OK.' I caught the confused looks on both Assassins' faces – damn it, I'd have to remember not to say things like that – and amended my response. 'I may not like it...but I accept your offer.' Then, remembering my manners, I added, 'Thank you.'

Clearly I wasn't the only one who still had issues over this. 'Master—' the younger Assassin protested.

His master cut him off in a severe, no-nonsense kind of tone. 'This is a step on your path to redemption, Altaïr. The girl will remain with you for the duration of her search, and _you_ are responsible for her safety. Is that understood?'

Pride visibly warred with obedience as Altaïr glowered at the old man. The expression on the part of his face that I could see was priceless – it reminded me of how I looked whenever I had to do something I didn't like. Finally, he muttered, 'Yes, Master.'

Huh. This was interesting. It was becoming increasingly obvious to me that this young man had got into trouble with his master recently; the old man's words to him were proof enough. I could relate to that – I'd never been one for authority, either.

Al Mualim nodded. 'Then go. Rest now; you can leave for Damascus tomorrow. I will have a room prepared for you,' he said to me.

I nodded back. 'Thank you.'

He scrutinised me for a few more seconds, then turned back to the window, effectively dismissing us. I gave the young man a questioning look. He bowed, then turned to leave, gesturing to me to follow him. I did.

Altaïr didn't speak until we descended the staircase and reached the ground floor. Without looking at me, he asked gruffly, 'Are you injured?'

'Split lip and a sore wrist. Nothing big.' I paused before asking him tentatively, 'Are you all right? You took a hard hit in the throat—'

He cut me off. 'It is fine.'

The young man led me outside into the courtyard. Now that I wasn't being escorted at knifepoint, I could take in more detail. I guessed it was used mainly for combat training, judging by the training dummies far off to the right and the white-robed figures in a ring below us, sparring with both fists and blades.

Altaïr stopped by the steps leading down from the fortress' entrance and turned to me. His face was in shadow, so I couldn't see his eyes, but his mouth was set in a firm line. He wasn't happy, that much I could tell. Was it because of me, I wondered? He watched me grimly for a few moments, then began to speak.

'I am riding for Damascus tomorrow,' he said. 'I have business there.' He breathed out heavily.

'I am bound to follow my Master's orders, but that does not mean I have to like them,' he continued harshly. 'We will meet here at dawn. If you are late, I will leave without you. When we do leave, you stay by my side.' He looked at me sideways. 'It is a three-day ride to Damascus. Can you handle that?'

'Of course I can,' I countered, offended. Freaking male chauvinist.

He glared at me. 'If you do anything to jeopardise my mission, I will kill you. Is that understood?'

It's funny how a nice voice can render announcements like that practically inconsequential. It was only when I reminded myself that this guy was an _Assassin_ that the implications sank in. This was no idle threat – he was deadly serious. Emphasis on _deadly_.

'Yes, sir,' I replied sarcastically.

Altaïr gave me a look that suggested that he was not at all amused, and stalked off, leaving me to jog along in his wake.

_Great,_ I was thinking. I would have to spend three days at least on the road with this guy – who I had already discerned was an arrogant sexist pig.

Oh yeah, and a freaking _Assassin._

_This is going to be fun..._

* * *

**Yeah, this is a bit of a long chapter... They do tend to write themselves.**

**Anyway, a few notes on this chapter. The bloodlust thing – well, I did say this was an Elder Scrolls crossover too; I took inspiration from Skyrim's Dawnguard DLC. It's going to have repercussions later on. As for Carrie herself, she has a serious problem with authority...**

**The angry Assassin in the courtyard is obviously Abbas. Carrie will be properly introduced to him later.**

**And I put in a little bit of dramatic irony...we all know how things turn out for Al Mualim.**

**Thanks for reading, and reviews much appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 2: Taking it In

**OK, just a shortish chapter before I start to get into the game's main plot. I will use both Carrie and Altaïr's perspectives throughout the rest of the story to kind of get both of their thoughts on what's going on. We're also going to meet Carrie's team in this chapter. Anyway, enough of my gabbling, let's get back to the story.**

* * *

'This. Is. Ridiculous.'

I was lying on my back on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling of the room that had been provided for me. I was not happy.

'I mean, it's bad enough that I've ended up here, in the twelfth bleeding century,' I ranted. 'But now I've got to stick like a freaking burr to that arrogant git! Why does this _always_ happen to me, Zekrom?' I directed at my partner. 'First Team Plasma, then dragons, and _now_ a bloody _Assassin_! Can my life _get_ any worse?'

_Carrie,_ Zekrom said. He was sitting outside the window, just visible to me but hopefully out of sight of anyone looking.

'What?' I snapped, then wished I hadn't. This wasn't my partner's fault.

_You're ranting. Stop it._

'OK, maybe I _am_ ranting,' I replied. 'But seriously, _could_ this get any worse? Why did I agree to this again?'

_Because,_ he said patiently, _we might find out something about why we were brought here._

'Shit.' I sat up and ran a hand through my hair in frustration.

Following my meeting with the Assassin leader and his student, I had been shown to my quarters for the duration of my stay in Masyaf: a smallish room in the fortress, one of several others. I guessed it was their equivalent of a hall of residence. Altaïr had shown me to the room, probably out of duty to his master. Or maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on me.

'Is this agreeable to you?' he had asked me. I detected a fair bit of sarcasm in his voice and glared at him.

'Don't patronise me,' I had warned him irritably. 'It's fine. Thank you.'

He turned away from me. 'Remember that we are leaving at dawn. Do you need me to wake you?'

'No. Thank you. I think I can manage.' It had taken all of my restraint not to slap him across the face.

'Goodnight then.' He stalked away.

''Night!' I had called cheerily after him. He had stopped for a second, his strong shoulders tensing under his white robe, before he kept walking. Otherwise, he hadn't reacted.

I replayed the conversation in my head as I sat. Gods – he really did have an attitude. I supposed that that had been what had got him in trouble with Al Mualim. I could relate to that. It was still irritating, though. Plus, even with those gorgeous brown eyes, he was still a sexist pig.

_Carrie, it's the twelfth century. Feminism hasn't been invented yet. Nor has male chauvinism, come to that. You should feel honoured that he attacked you in the first place – weapons or no weapons, you're still a female._

Thank you, Zekrom. I snorted. _And that's better? Assassin or not, a little old-fashioned chivalry wouldn't have gone amiss._

_So you are saying you would prefer to stumble around in the dark, figuratively speaking, rather than come under the protection and guidance of the Assassin Order and make a – ahem – a new friend in the process?_

_I'm not saying that, I'm— Hey!_ I suddenly realised what my partner had said. _What do you mean by that?_

_Come on, Carrie. It's obvious. You like him._

It didn't take a genius to work out who Zekrom was referring to. _I do not! He's an irritating, arrogant, chauvinistic—_

_Male chauvinism hasn't been invented yet, remember._ I could hear the smirk in my partner's voice; it didn't become him at all.

_Zekrom! Shut up! I'm serious. I don't, OK? I've only just met the guy, and, if you remember, he tried to kill me!_

_No, he didn't,_ Zekrom reminded me. _He said so. He said he didn't want to hurt you._

_There! You've proved my point. I'm a girl, so he didn't kill me. Hurrah!_

_Have you considered that he didn't kill you because he just didn't want to kill you?_ The question stopped me cold. Zekrom took advantage of my silence to continue._ I believe that he was not convinced that you were an enemy; he did defend you from his master. He may have been curious about you, too. N was, remember?_

The mention of my old friend and rival gave me pause. N, the Hero of Truth, ex-king of the supposed 'Pokémon liberators' Team Plasma and partner to Reshiram. Zekrom, as usual, was right. N _had_ sensed something different about me, right when we first met, that spring morning in Accumula Town. Maybe Altaïr had too.

_Huh,_ was all I said, though. No need to give Zekrom an over-inflated ego.

_Carrie, it's nothing to do with me if you fancy him or not._ I cringed at the word – the dragon had clearly spent too much time around twenty-first-century teenagers – but Zekrom carried on regardless. _What is important is that you learn to get along with him. And if you can't, pretend that you do. We need him on our side._

_You're sure about this?_ I asked.

_Positive._

I sighed. Zekrom was right again – like it or not, we needed Altaïr.

Damn.

I was keen to get off the subject of the handsome young Assassin, so I turned my attention to more practical thoughts. _Zekrom, are there any wild Pokémon round here?_ I asked.

_Yes, a few. I spotted a Braviary flying above Masyaf earlier. I also saw Vibrava, Sandile, Sandshrew...mostly desert-dwelling Pokémon, considering the terrain. There might be Pokémon like Meowth around the cities. Maybe Rattata or Patrat in more grassy areas. As for other Flying-types, Mandibuzz, maybe Pidgeotto. Most people have seen them, if that's what you're worried about._

_I'm not worried,_ I retorted. _Just making sure we don't freak anyone out. That would probably send Alta__ï__r over the edge._

Zekrom chuckled. _Possibly. I'll keep out of sight, though. The sight of a large black dragon might be a bit too much for people. Also, I would refrain from using Poké Balls as best you can. Maybe just use them around Altaïr._

_Fair enough._ That was that problem solved, anyway. I stood up. It was warm enough, so I tugged off my cuirass and threw it on the bed, leaving me in my familiar short-sleeved black top. It looked so incongruous with my surroundings that I had to laugh.

_What is it?_

_Oh,_ I said. _It's just...this is so weird._

_We've been in stranger situations._

_Have we?_ I racked my brains for anything weirder that had happened to me over the years, but couldn't think of anything off the top of my head.

Oh. Yes, I could. Damn it, I didn't want to relive that now! 'Go away,' I muttered. 'Go away, go away, go away...'

_Carrie? Are you all right?_

I realised that Zekrom had said my name about three times. I gave him a sheepish grin through the window. 'Sorry.'

_Are you all right?_

_Yeah. Just...flashbacks, that's all._ I shook my head vigorously a few times to clear it, then unstrapped my leather pouch from my belt and leaned over to pick up the canvas bag from the floor. 'Let's see what we have in here...'

Upending them both on the bed, I discovered that I was equipped with enough stuff to outfit a climb up Mount Silver. Since my friend Leo had given me the pouch a couple of years ago as a birthday present, my pouch held much more stuff than it should but didn't weigh me down at all. It reminded me of Mary Poppins' bag. I mostly used it to carry things I would need immediately: Poké Balls, Potions, stuff I tended to carry with me regularly. As for the bag, as far as I could tell, it was just a bag.

Strewn over the bed was a pile of familiar gear: my little camping stove; my trusty first-aid kit; my signalling mirror; my compass; spare clothes; my Pokédex; my Xtranceiver (Arceus knew how _that_ would come in handy, with no signal and no one to call in any case); a canvas pouch stuffed full of Berries; spare Poké Balls (not useful with six Pokémon with me and no way to transfer any I might catch); my pocketknife; a pouch of instant coffee (thank the gods); two tin mugs; a box of matches; a small pan; a huge pile of food for both the Pokémon and myself; and my torch. Basically, everything I would need, and a little I probably wouldn't.

_At least you're well-equipped,_ Zekrom noted dryly.

_Never one to state the obvious, are you?_ I gathered it all up and repacked: the Poké Balls, compass, first-aid kit, pocketknife, Xtranceiver in the pouch, Pokédex in my pocket, the rest in my bag. Arceus knew how all that stuff fitted in that tiny little pouch. I'd asked Leo about it once, but he had just laughed and replied, _'Come on, Carrie, you didn't think I'd tell you _all_ my secrets, did you?'_ For my part, I suspected some sort of unholy pact with a Daedra. Or with Palkia. _I'm going to have words with Pal when we get back..._ I thought wryly.

If we got back.

_We will get back. Do not worry about that. Your Voice seems to know what it is doing._

_That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence, pal,_ I told Zekrom.

_Your Voice has been fairly trustworthy so far, has it not?_ I didn't respond. _Carrie, don't worry about what the future might hold. Focus on the here and now._

_Yeah, I guess..._ I sighed heavily and sat back down. 'Arceus, I'm tired.'

_Unsurprising, really. Get some sleep._

_Yeah... I think I will._ Looking out of the window, I could see that it was already starting to get dark. I had no idea what time it was, but that didn't matter – I'd travelled around so much and been in so many potentially dangerous situations in my nineteen years that my sleep patterns were permanently screwed up. It didn't protect me from jet lag, though, and I was really feeling it. But whatever time it was, I would probably be able to get to sleep. I hoped.

I cleared my stuff – my cuirass, sword, bow, quiver and pouch – off the bed and dumped it on the floor, then tugged off my belt and threw that on the pile too. A lamp burned in the corner of the room, so I put it out, then immediately wished I hadn't. There was enough light coming through the window to see by, but when that faded, everything would be pitch-black. I found a fat white candle in a holder on the small desk and lit it. _Thank Arceus._

_Better?_ Zekrom asked me. There was no sarcasm in his voice; he was genuinely concerned.

_Yeah._ I smiled ruefully._ I forgot Galena and Vee aren't here with me. And you can't fit in the room, can you?_

_No, but you have five other Pokémon with you._

My eyes opened wide. Of course! I'd almost forgotten! I dug out the five occupied Poké Balls from my pocket. 'Everyone, come on out!'

Seeing my team appear before me made me feel so much better. 'Hey, guys!' I greeted them.

Swampert, cool and collected as always, gave me his familiar huge grin. Simisage gave me a thumbs-up. Arcanine shook out his luxurious orange and black fur and barked a greeting. Riolu and Zorua, by contrast, leapt straight into my arms. Zorua licked my face happily, while Riolu threw her arms around my neck and hugged me.

'All right, all right, settle down, you guys!' I laughed. I put the two smaller Pokémon down and sat back on the end of the bed. 'You all heard what's going on, yeah?' I asked them.

My team all nodded; it was common for Pokémon to hear things while inside their Poké Balls.

'OK. We're heading off to Damascus tomorrow morning. It'll take about three days to get there. Now, I don't know what's going to happen, but I have faith in all of you.' I paused. 'And guys? I know this is really weird and scary – I'm pretty freaked out myself. But remember this: we _will_ get home. Whatever happens, I promise you that. So you guys have got to promise _me_ that you won't worry. Can you do that?'

My friends looked at each other with varying degrees of apprehension, but they all nodded. I smiled at them reassuringly. 'That's all I ask.'

Swampert came over to me and put one of his large hands on my shoulder. _'Swa?'_ he asked me. _Are you all right?_

I smiled at him, thankful for his concern, and patted his hand. 'I'm OK. Just tired. I don't know about the rest of you, but I could do with some sleep. I'm so jet-lagged it's untrue. Especially as we didn't actually fly here.'

Swamps smiled at me and said something that I couldn't translate, even after nine years of knowing him. Whatever it was, the others seemed to agree with him. _Ah, N, where are you when I need you?_ I thought wryly.

Zekrom translated for me. _Swampert says that he will stay with you tonight rather than go into his Pok__é__ Ball. The others say they will too. I can't come in, but I will be outside if you need me._

I was so touched by this show of concern that tears came to my eyes. Or maybe it was because I was so tired. 'Thanks, guys. You're the best.'

I kicked off my boots, cleared everything out of my pockets, and crawled beneath the blankets. Arc climbed up to the foot of the bed, curling himself around my feet. I hoped he wouldn't break the bed. Swampert and Simisage, careful to keep his thorny tail out of the way, climbed in either side of me, while Riolu snuggled close to my head. Zorua, typically, lay on my stomach. It was so, so sweet of them, and so cosy, too. I snuggled close to Swampert and let him put his thick arms around me protectively, feeling Arc's warm fur at my feet and one of Simisage's arms draped over my middle. It didn't matter that it would be dark soon. I was with my friends. Safe. It felt almost like home.

''Night, guys,' I murmured as my eyes drifted shut. _'Night, Zekrom._

_Sleep well, Carrie,_ my partner answered.

Yes. This was better than a candle. I might have been stuck in the twelfth century with an Assassin as a guide, but I was away from the horrors of the recent past. There was no way _he_ could be here now. He couldn't follow me through time. I could rest. I might even avoid the nightmares tonight.

'_You might. Or you might not.'_

No. No way. Not here. My eyes snapped open and my body tensed – fight or flight. Sensing my distress through our shared Aura, Riolu hugged me, trying to comfort me. I couldn't believe it. _Not here._

Fatigue finally won out over terror. As I drifted off into a fitful sleep, the last thing I heard was that dark voice.

'_Sweet dreams, child.'_

* * *

Altaïr wondered what he had done to deserve having his life completely screwed up around him.

First there had been that terrible mission to Solomon's Temple, where not only had Robert de Sable and his guards murdered young Kadar, but he had also been thoroughly humiliated by _Malik_ returning to their master with the prize they had been seeking. Then there had been the attack on Masyaf, which _he_ had had to sort out. Then, to top it all off, Al Mualim had branded him a traitor and stabbed him.

And now, not only did he have to undertake tasks meant for _novices_, he had to do it with a _girl_ trailing at his heels!

When he had first seen the figure in the brown hood wandering the streets of Masyaf, he hadn't thought too much of it. People came and went from the town all the time. It was only when he had looked more closely that he had begun to feel curious.

The most obvious point was that the traveller in the brown hood was carrying a large amount of weaponry: a black broadsword; an ornate bow; a small dagger. That wouldn't have been _too_ unusual – but something else had caught his attention.

The armour the traveller wore was sturdy, but light and fitted, designed to allow freedom of movement. The hood obscured much of the face – but the slim body under the armour was decidedly feminine.

He hadn't been able to believe it at first, so much so that he had slipped into his other sight, the one that his fellow Assassins had taken to referring as 'Eagle Vision'. What he had seen with it had been even more shocking. Instead of the usual hues that surrounded those he saw with the other vision – blue, red, white, gold – the glow that surrounded the hooded woman was silver. Bright silver, pervaded by swirls of vivid blue and the deep black of the night sky.

And it had frightened him.

Altaïr was an Assassin, and he had seen a lot during his years in the Order. But nothing had ever frightened him as the strange young woman in the brown armour had.

That had made him angry. He had been worried, too. _Could she be a Templar?_

So he had decided to do something about her.

He had sprung out of the crowd, as he had so many times before, hidden blade poised to strike. He hadn't aimed for anywhere vital, though – he wanted to question her first. Still, she should have been his.

But, inexplicably, she had moved out of the way with a twitch of her hips, and he had missed his target. Even more bafflingly, she couldn't have even seen him – she had been looking in the opposite direction! Had she heard him? _Sensed_ him, somehow?

The young woman had gasped out a few words in English. _A Crusader, perhaps? One of Robert's people? But a _woman_? Impossible!_

It only took him a second to recover, and he had swung his right fist at her jaw – she blocked it. He whipped his blade laterally at her midsection, but she jumped back, safely out of range.

Then, before he could try another attack, she had slipped to his left, so quickly he barely saw her move, and kicked him hard in the side. A second later, he had felt another hard kick to his spine. The girl, it seemed, could fight.

Despite this baffling and painful development, he had been able to overpower her to the point that her back was almost right up against the ruined wall. Until, that was, she spun around and, with speed that rivalled even that of an Assassin, propelled herself off the wall towards his throat. Her hood fell back as she jumped, and he had caught a glimpse of pale skin and a pair of focused steel-blue eyes before she hit him.

The blow had caught him completely unawares; it wasn't until her hands had made contact with him that he reacted. Of course, by then it was far too late. She had hit him in the windpipe so hard, it still hurt slightly to breathe. It had almost finished him, but, somehow, he had been able to continue. Finally, he had her pinned against the wall, her back to him, bleeding from her upper lip.

Oh, she had tried to fight back, struggling against his grip, even attempting to raise the dagger clutched in her right hand. And yet, she, too, was afraid. He could hear it in her uneven breaths, feel her body shaking under his. Slim, but powerful; she had clearly been trained for combat.

She was even younger than he had thought, too. She couldn't have been older than nineteen. Not much more than a child, really.

She had snarled at him, again in English, so he had spoken to her in kind. Then he had disarmed her and walked her to the fortress, to Al Mualim.

Had had known that his master would be concerned. What he hadn't expected was the older man's reaction to this girl. He had actually tried to kill her! If not for the girl's almost unbelievably fast reflexes, Altaïr had no doubt that Al Mualim would have run her through, as he had the traitor Masun less than an hour before.

He wasn't entirely sure why he had protected her then. Judging by her lack of calm acceptance of her predicament – a trait that he had seen in Masun, and in Robert in Jerusalem – he had concluded that she was unlikely to be a Templar. Still, it was not impossible.

_Nothing is true. Everything is permitted._

Despite this, he had instinctively defended her, convinced his master to allow the girl to live, at least until they could uncover her intentions. He hadn't expected that he would have to let her trail along behind him like a tamed animal!

If he did not know better, he would have said that this was further punishment for his failure. He deserved it.

He sat down the bed in his quarters and sighed heavily.

Sleep took a long time coming that night. Try as he might, Altaïr simply could not make his mind rest. Too much had happened since he had awoken from his 'sleep of the dead' for him to relax, and he was still haunted by everything that had happened before – his failure, the attack on Masyaf, Kadar's death... Damn it, Kadar was just a child – just barely seventeen, even younger than the girl called Carrie he was now to protect.

He remembered the girl's bright eyes, staring at him with a mixture of curiosity, apprehension and a strange hunger. The unusual glow that had surrounded her. Her faintly musical, snarling voice. Yes, this young woman intrigued him, no doubt. Maybe that had been why he had wanted her to live – so that he could learn more about her.

He wondered about the 'partner' she had mentioned. Who he was. Altaïr hadn't seen him in the street, but the girl claimed that he was waiting for her outside the window...

Maybe this wouldn't be such a problem after all. It might be an opportunity.

As long as she didn't disrupt his mission, of course. No matter what, his redemption came first.

* * *

**...And here we start to see some angst with Carrie. The voice that Carrie hears here is different from the one in the prologue. ****Yeah, I know. Two voices? What can I say?**

**Feel free to drop me a review or a PM if you have any questions. Until next time!  
**


	4. Chapter 3: Making Introductions

**Sorry for the long delay in updating, university work has been getting to me. Unfortunately the gap between chapters is going to be even longer for a little while due to exams, but by the end of the month I should have more time on my hands to write rather than revise. Anyway, here we go with the next chapter.**

* * *

I woke from a confused dream in a tangle of blankets and fur. For a moment, I wondered where I was, why something warm and furry was lying practically in my face, why I wasn't in my bed at home in Twinleaf...

Then my tongue brushed against my split lip, and everything came rushing back. Including what was lying on me.

'Zorua, get off my head,' I mumbled, shoving the little Dark-type off me. He protested with a sleepy squeak, but otherwise didn't stir. Arcanine was still asleep too, one paw having managed to drape over my legs and his whiskers tickling my feet. Simisage, I noticed with amusement, was actually snoring.

By contrast, little Riolu was awake, her eyes alert. She was sitting up against my pillow, and she gave me a smile when she saw I was up too.

'Morning, Riri,' I said, using the Fighting-type's pet name. She uttered a little sound of greeting and gestured with one paw towards her sleeping friends.

'I know. Lazy bunch,' I grinned. I gave Swampert a nudge. 'Come on Swamps, time to get up.'

One of my partner's orange eyes opened. He regarded me grumpily.

'Come on, we need to move, or we'll miss our ride.' I was right; the sun was almost up, just enough to spread a little light into the room.

Swampert closed his eye again.

'Oh, for goodness' sake! Come on, you lazy lot, get up!' I extradited myself from Arcanine and nudged him with my foot. 'Hey, Arc, rise and shine. Simisage, you too.' I leaned over to poke the Thorn Monkey Pokémon.

Arcanine raised his head.

'Finally! Come on guys, let's go, let's go! Look, Riolu's already up. Riolu, can you give me a hand?' I shoved at Swampert until he rolled off the bed onto the floor – no mean feat, considering that he weighed about twenty kilos more than I did. Then I rolled upright and dumped Simisage off the bed before shoving Arc to his feet.

The three of them gave me very disgruntled looks.

'Sorry guys, but do we need to get going, you know? Swamps, Simisage, grab a couple of blankets, will you, please?' I leapt off the bed and threw my armour on, then shoved my feet into my boots.

Meanwhile, Riolu was bouncing on the bed close to Zorua, trying to get him to wake up. I suspected that the little Dark-type was only pretending to be asleep, though. 'Hit him with Aura Sphere, Riri,' I told her with a grin. At that, Zorua squeaked and leapt to his feet as though I had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. I couldn't help but laugh.

'_Simi.'_ Simisage dumped a blanket on the bed with a slightly grumpy expression. Swampert added another to the pile with slightly better grace, then handed me my pouch.

'Thanks, guys,' I smiled. I rolled the blankets up; we would need them if we were going to be on the road for a few days. 'I hope Altaïr's bringing food; I really don't want to have to hunt.' Sure, I was a deadly shot with my bow, but if I could avoid killing anything, I would. I _hated_ hunters – always had, always would.

_I'm sure he is._ Zekrom spoke to me suddenly. _Speaking of whom, he left the fortress about ten minutes ago. You might want to move._

_Bugger. Thanks, Zekrom._ 'Let's get going, guys,' I said. 'Oh, and Arc,' I asked my Fire-type, 'can I ask a favour? Can I ride with you to Damascus?' If Arc didn't want to though, I wouldn't force the issue. If meeting N had taught me anything, it was never to take my Pokémon for granted.

Arcanine barked an assent. I ruffled his fur. 'Thanks, boy.' I checked the room to see if I'd forgotten anything. I hadn't, so I swung my bag over my shoulder and pulled out four Poké Balls from my pocket. 'Let's go, team. Return.' Swampert, Simisage, Riolu and Zorua vanished inside their Balls, leaving Arc to walk with me.

Zekrom was right – I really was pushing it for time. Altaïr was waiting for me in the courtyard, looking cold and grumpy. I wasn't sure how much of it was the temperature – it was pretty chilly – and how much of it was to do with waiting for me.

'Morning,' I said cheerily. He grunted in response. Then he noticed Arcanine and did a double-take.

'What is that?' he demanded.

I shrugged. 'My Arcanine. Say hi, Arc.' Arc wagged his plume of a tail and leaned forwards to sniff at the Assassin, who took a quick step back, out of range. I gave him my best 'innocent' look while trying not to giggle; he shook his head and stalked off.

I grinned at Arc and followed.

Since it was early in the morning, very few people were wandering the streets of Masyaf, so it didn't take too long to reach the gates. There were still guards around, though, which made me nervous. They were all staring at me with a kind of rabid curiosity that seriously unnerved me. Maybe it was just my own paranoia, but they were also staring at Arc. I was actually glad of Altaïr's presence – whatever had transpired recently, he clearly still had enough clout to keep the guards' attention off us.

Passing through the town gates again felt a little weird, but exciting, too – it was almost like being back in Sinnoh, travelling through the cities and smaller towns. Speaking of towns, I had noticed a stable just outside Masyaf when I had arrived, and that was where Altaïr was heading now. That was weird too – in Sinnoh there were few animals, the region instead inhabited mostly by Pokémon. Sure, there were some birds and fish as well as Pokémon like Pidgey, Starly, Magikarp, whatever, but that was mostly it. In Sinnoh, if you needed a guard dog, you kept a Growlithe. You needed milk, you got it from a Miltank. And for me, if I needed a ride, I asked Arcanine or my Zebstrika, and if I needed to be in the air, I flew with Tropius, Staraptor or Zekrom. Simple as that. It was all I really knew.

I watched Altaïr as he swung himself into the saddle of a magnificent white stallion, his pack slung over his shoulders. He gestured for me to sit behind him.

I raised an eyebrow at him. 'Don't need to. I'm riding with Arc.'

'Do you mean that—' Wisely, he cut himself off before he finished his sentence. Good thing too – if he had insulted my Arc, I would've clobbered him, Assassin or not. Altaïr dismounted and turned to face me, wearing an expression that suggested that he was fast losing patience with me. 'You can_not_ ride that. It attracts far too much attention.'

'He,' I corrected. 'Arc's a he. And I stand out like a Rolls Royce in a chop shop anyway, so I doubt having him around'll make much difference.' I caught the blank look on the Assassin's face. 'Ha. Never mind.'

The Assassin closed his eyes briefly and blew out a long breath. 'You should try to blend in rather than make yourself more conspicuous. It will get you killed if you do not.'

I thought about that for a moment. As much as I didn't want to admit it, he was right. Horses were clearly the norm here – going around on the back of a large furry canine would definitely attract unwanted attention. 'All right, fair point,' I finally conceded, and I turned to my friend reluctantly. 'Sorry, Arc.'

Arcanine licked my cheek to convey that I was forgiven. I stroked the thick fur on his neck. 'I'll call on you if I need you, 'kay? Return.' I held out Arc's Great Ball and the Fire-type disappeared into it.

I could swear that Altaïr's jaw dropped at least four inches. 'What?' I asked innocently – or as innocently as I could manage, anyway. The effect was ruined somewhat by the grin I couldn't manage to wipe from my face, but oh well.

He shook his head and climbed back into the saddle. I swore that I heard him mutter, 'What have I got myself into?'

Or it could have just been my imagination.

'Come on,' he told me, again gesturing for me to mount behind him.

I gave him a withering look. 'I'll ride by myself, thanks. I do know how to ride a horse, you know.' OK, so I didn't actually have any experience with horses, but I kind of knew the theory, and I figured it couldn't be that much different than riding with Arcanine or Zebstrika. I didn't want to lose face with Altaïr anyway – have him think of me as some helpless little girl? No way! – so I ignored the Assassin's irritated expression, dropped the blankets I was holding and went over to the stable itself.

My eyes fell almost immediately on a beautiful chestnut mare, a little taller than my Zebstrika, who studied me with one warm brown eye. 'Hi there,' I said quietly. She didn't shy away when I stroked her neck, just watched me calmly.

'Hey there, girl,' I murmured. 'You want to come with me?' She appraised me for a moment, then tossed her mane and blew warm air in my face. I took that as a yes and smiled. 'OK then. Let's get you tacked up.'

Altaïr gave me a strange look. 'You're talking to a horse?'

I glanced over my shoulder at him. 'Horses are much more intelligent than people give them credit for. Anyway, it's better than talking to _some_ people because horses don't reply with sexist comments.'

Altaïr ignored me. Probably, he didn't have a clue what I was on about.

_Sexism—_

—_doesn't exist yet, I know,_ I cut in before Zekrom could start lecturing me again. _But it makes me feel better saying it._ I turned back to the mare and continued struggling with the tack. There was a reason why I always rode bareback, and this was it – I didn't have a clue what I was doing. After a few minutes of fighting with the unyielding leather, my pride unbent enough for me to (admittedly ungraciously) accept the offer of help from the young man – a teenager, really – who was already tending to the stables.

'Thank you,' I muttered at him. I couldn't tell if he understood me, but he bowed his head in acknowledgement anyway. I rolled up the blankets, tied them to the mare's saddle and swung myself up. 'Right. Let's hit the road.'

I could swear that I heard Altaïr mutter to himself as we moved off.

* * *

I wasn't a fan of long journeys. They were OK when I was travelling through Sinnoh or Unova, where I had my Pokémon to keep me sane, Trainers to battle to break up the monotony, my iPod to listen to and my friends to chat to on the Xtranceiver when I felt lonely. Recently I had found that I couldn't deal with travelling anywhere without those things. Without something to distract me...that was when the memories resurfaced and that voice echoed in my head, just to taunt me.

Travelling through Syria on horseback with whom I now considered to be possibly the grumpiest Assassin in history was one of those times.

I had lost track of how much time had passed since we had set off. We had quickly passed the spot where I had first landed, and I was taking in the unfamiliar sights, Zekrom giving me commentary on everything we both saw. And yet, I couldn't shake off the terror of the night before. My dream was still haunting me – memories of a Pokémon battle in Unova's Chargestone Cave and the tortured look on the face of my opponent as he left. Nothing too unusual, by my standards, given that even after sixteen months, I couldn't seem to shake any memories to do with N. But that horrible voice was still in my head; I could still hear that taunting 'goodnight'. I preferred the female voice that entered my dreams from time to time to that one. I hated it. Hated it. At least she actually gave me advice, rather than just taunting me, even if I didn't know who 'she' was.

Self-satisfied laughter echoed in my head. 'Shut up,' I muttered, pressing a hand against my temple.

_Are you all right?_ Zekrom's concerned voice floated to me.

_Yeah. Just you-know-who starting up again._ A flash of irritation that wasn't mine hit me; I swore aloud. _What, I can't even talk to my own partner without you butting in, you bastard? Shut up and leave me the hell alone._

My horse whinnied uneasily, tossing her head. I didn't blame her; I probably sounded nuts. 'Sorry, girl,' I said to her.

It struck me that I hadn't bothered to find out what her name was. I didn't even know if she had one. 'You need a name,' I told her. She bobbed her head up and down as though agreeing with me, making me giggle. Really, hanging around with a horse wasn't that different to being with one of my Pokémon. The mare had her own emotions and personality: I could sense it. So I would treat her as I would a friend.

I thought for a moment, trying out different names in my head. None of them felt right. Finally, 'I know,' I said to the mare. 'I'll call you Kassie. Kassie with a 'K', yeah? You like that name?'

The chestnut mare whinnied and tossed her head up and down. She even pranced a little. Although I had to hang on tightly to the reins for fear of falling off in her exuberance, I grinned – I could sense that she was happy. 'Kassie it is.'

'Are you talking to that horse again?' Altaïr's voice reached my ears. Damn, it still sounded as good as it had been yesterday. He seemed to have recovered from being smacked in the windpipe, anyway. I could feel myself turning pink.

'Yep,' I called back. He let out an audible sigh. He was probably wondering how his life had come to this.

Then again, so was I.

I was fortunate that Altaïr didn't appear to have noticed me muttering to myself. It was actually the first time he'd spoken since we'd left the stables, except to instruct me when we came across a group of Crusader soldiers (they were easy to pick out, what with their white and red armour). Altaïr had reigned in his horse to a slow walk and lowered his head, instructing me to do the same. _'Raise your hood and lower your head. Try to act like a traveller. Otherwise, you will get us both killed.'_ Given that I felt about as inconspicuous as a flashing neon sign with a siren attached, this had made me so tense I felt I was about to snap, but we made it past without attracting much more than a cursory glance.

Since we were alone now, and wishing to focus on anything other than the waking nightmare that was that freaking voice, I took the opportunity to satisfy my nagging curiosity about my new companion. 'Hey, Altaïr,' I called.

He glanced over his shoulder at me. 'Hmm?'

I gently nudged Kassie's flanks to get her to move level with Altaïr. 'So what happened with you and Al Mualim?'

The young man stiffened. 'What do you mean?' he asked me with forced calm.

'Oh, come on,' I told him. 'It's pretty obvious that _something_ went on between you two. Even if I'd missed the tension between the two of you, all that stuff about redemption would have tipped me off.'

Altaïr was silent.

'So if I had to guess,' I continued, 'I'd say that you had some form of disagreement – disobeying orders or whatever – and he didn't like it, so you've got to make it up to him somehow. Which is why he dumped me on you, I'm guessing. Am I right?'

The Assassin's shoulders tensed; his hands were clenched so tightly on his stallion's reins that the knuckles were white. He didn't answer, which was all the confirmation I needed.

'So I _am_ right!' I grinned to myself. 'Yeah, I've never been one for authority, either.' I paused, then asked more gently, 'What happened?'

Silence from the man. Finally, he replied tightly, 'I do not wish to discuss it.'

'Why not?' I persisted.

'Because it is none of your business.' He spurred his horse on, pulling ahead of me.

Now I was getting a bit irritated. 'Clearly it _is_ my business if we're gonna be travelling together,' I snapped at him. 'Look, I don't give a damn what you've done. Whatever it was, it can't be worse than anything I've done in the past. And talking about it might help.'

Silence.

'Altaïr,' I said sharply. The Assassin actually turned around to look at me – it was the first time he had since we'd left. He finally sighed, irritated.

'I disobeyed orders, and it got a Brother killed. I was stripped of my rank, and now I am to restore it by carrying out this and other missions for my master.' He looked right into my eyes, and my breath caught as I was held by his deep brown gaze. 'Nothing matters but restoring my honour. If I must act as your protector, so be it, but if you interfere with my mission, I will kill you. Is that understood?'

I bit my lip. I understood all right. His pride had been wounded, which, for one as arrogant as this man, was the worst kind of injury. Altaïr was an Assassin; this mission in Damascus was clearly to kill someone. And I knew that, despite his apparent reluctance to hurt me when we had met, and his protecting me from Al Mualim's anger, he would not hesitate to end my life if he deemed it necessary for the restoration of his pride.

And I also knew that I shouldn't have brought up the subject. The wound was still too raw, too tender; I had hurt him. That wasn't a good start.

'Yes,' I whispered, unable to articulate any other response. 'I get it.'

'Good.' Altaïr lapsed into silence, leaving me alone with my thoughts, Zekrom's reassuring presence, and a dark weight on my soul.

* * *

Time passed in silence. The scenery was getting samey already, which didn't help to distract me. At least I had Zekrom to talk to. _See anything from up there, Zekrom?_ I asked him.

_Soldiers. Lots of them, spread around the area. I saw a few Eevee earlier, though,_ he told me. _I think they prefer this climate over anywhere you have been. It is warmer here, you see,_ he explained. _What do you see, Carrie?_

_Um... Not much. Dust. Dry grass. Rocks. Basically, almost exactly what I saw about an hour ago._ Something struck me then. _Speaking of, Zekrom, what time _is_ it, exactly? I don't think the clock on my Xtranceiver's going to be much help here._

_I cannot tell precisely. I'm sorry._

_Don't be,_ I told him. Shading my eyes, I peered up at the sun, its glare harsher here than in Sinnoh. That wasn't good – it wasn't too high yet, but it would start getting to me soon. _It must still be morning, I think. We can't have been on the road for that long._

_Yes._ Zekrom paused for a moment. _Carrie?_

_Yeah? What's up?_

My partner paused again before asking delicately, _Have you spoken to Altaïr?_

Uh... What? _Why? And about what?_ I asked apprehensively.

_About anything._

_You should know,_ I pointed out. _We share our thoughts, remember?_

_We share thoughts, yes. However, I do allow you your privacy. You were so quiet, I thought you did not wish to be disturbed._

_Zekrom,_ I said with a tender smile, _you never disturb me when we talk._ Briefly, I relayed to my partner the little that Altaïr had told me about his disagreement with Al Mualim.

_It does not surprise me,_ was all he said. _He did strike me as one with a blatant disregard for authority. Rather like somebody else I know, in fact,_ he teased.

I decided to ignore the jibe. _Zekrom, pal, I don't know what to make of this. I'm worried. I almost had to start shouting at him before he even said anything to me. And he made it perfectly clear to me that he wouldn't lose sleep over killing me if he felt it necessary. I don't know if this is such a good idea, you know?_

_You need to get on his good side. Get to know him a bit, like you did when you met N. That turned out well, did it not?_

Yes, I remembered how I had met N. How we had battled in Accumula Town, becoming rivals and eventually friends. _That was different, though. At least N actually _wanted_ to talk. Altaïr's an Assassin. He won't talk to me!_

_You talk to _him_, then, Carrie. Talk to him like you talked to N._ When I didn't respond, Zekrom huffed in annoyance. _Carrie. I know you tend to mistrust everybody you meet. But we could be here for a while, so you need to start forging connections. You know and I know that you feel something for Altaïr – I know, Carrie, don't try to deny it,_ he said over my outraged protest.

_Zekrom, that isn't the same as trusting someone,_ I argued.

_Maybe not,_ he replied, _but that doesn't mean they can't go together. Does it?_

_Ah, hell._ Typically, Zekrom was right. Again. Frankly, though, I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of trying to have a friendly chat with Altaïr.

'What do you think, Kassie? Should I try and talk to the grumpy Assassin?' I asked. Kassie snorted a little. I wasn't sure if that was a response, but I took a little comfort from it anyway.

It was a while before I summoned the courage to talk. 'Altaïr,' I eventually called.

He turned around slightly to look at me. 'What is it?'

I had to pause for a moment to think of something to ask him, something that might break the rather thick ice between us. 'Have you, uh...been an Assassin long?'

He looked at me in silence for a moment before choosing to answer. 'I was trained as an Assassin from when I was very young.'

'You still seem pretty young,' I noted.

'So do you. Certainly very young to be travelling alone and to carry so many weapons.'

I lifted my chin defiantly, even though he couldn't see it, since he was focused on the road ahead. 'I've been travelling alone since I was ten years old. And I wasn't even alone. I'm not now, either. Like I said, I'm nineteen, not a child.'

He shook his head. 'You act like one.'

'Oh, and you don't?' I shot back. I saw his shoulders tense, and felt bad for a moment. Still, score one for me.

'Anyway,' I risked, 'you know my age. So I think it's only fair that I know yours. Right?'

I got no response, but I dared, 'OK, I'll work it out. Let's see...' I thought for a moment. 'Well, you're older than I am, but not by too much. I'd guess you're still in your twenties, right?' I took his silence as an affirmation, so I continued. 'You're still young, but you clearly have a lot of experience. You must have had a fairly high rank before, given your level of experience and your reaction to taking me along with you, so you can't be _that_ young. Definitely older than my brother, so...' I thought a bit more. My brother Nick was nearly twenty-two, so Altaïr was older than that, but it couldn't be by much. 'I'd say...twenty-five? Twenty-six? Somewhere around that. Am I right?'

Altaïr didn't speak for a moment. I wondered if he was even listening to me, but then I caught a flash of his emotions. He was angry.

I winced. I had picked up this deduction trick from my friend Leo, but I wondered if I had been too forward with it. Damn. 'Sorry,' I said.

Altaïr glanced my way, but still didn't say anything. I bit my lip and looked down, embarrassed, until I heard his voice.

'Twenty-six.' I looked up, startled, to find that Altaïr had pulled up next to me. 'You were right.'

I gave a small, sheepish smile. 'Sorry I upset you,' I told him.

He shrugged. 'You didn't upset me. I was simply startled. I did not expect...' He shook his head and didn't finish.

'You were angry,' I pointed out. 'It's OK, though. I shouldn't have... I was out of line. I'm sorry.' Hang on, did those words really slip out of my mouth?

'Do not concern yourself.' Altaïr spurred his horse into a trot, moving quickly away.

'Hey, wait!' I called after him. Nudging Kassie's flanks, I set off after him. When I caught up, I asked him, 'Is Altaïr your real name?'

He looked at me askance. 'Yes. Is Carrie your real name?'

He had me there. 'Kind of.'

The Assassin gave a soft disbelieving snort, but accepted the answer. 'Why do you ask?'

I shrugged. 'I just wondered. I mean, Al Mualim is definitely a name he chose himself. I wondered if it was true for other Assassins as well.'

This time Altaïr snorted aloud. 'What would give you that idea?'

I glared. 'The fact that, you know, you're _Assassins_. Giving out your real name might be a bit of a bad idea if you're trying to blend in, mightn't it? Hm?'

All I received was a sceptical look. 'I do not tend to make myself known to my targets before I eliminate them.'

'There's a first time for everything,' I pointed out. Recalling Zekrom's words, I told him, 'You might have to start forging connections outside of your Order one day.'

At this, the Assassin looked thoughtful. 'Perhaps.'

I grinned triumphantly at him, then licked a finger and drew a mark in front of his face. Score one to me. Still, my curiosity was by no means sated, so I risked digging deeper. 'Do you have a last name? A family name, I mean?'

'Do you ever stop asking questions?' he shot back, sidestepping the inquiry.

'Nope,' I told him. 'Never. So do you have a full name?'

There was a pause before he told me: 'Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.'

'Whoa,' was all I could say to that.

'_Altaïr' means 'the flying one',_ Zekrom informed me. _'Ibn' means 'son'. His last name translates as 'son of none'._

'_The flying one'. I knew there was a reason I liked his name,_ I thought.

_It is appropriate, too, since the brightest star in the constellation Aquila is called Altaïr. I assume you know what _'Aquila' _means?_

I ignored that jibe as well. Zekrom was managing to be spectacularly irritating today. _'s Latin. 'Eagle', right?_

_Right. _'Altaïr'_ is derived from an Arabic phrase that means 'the flying eagle'. That is why the star has that name. 'The flying one'._

_That's awesome. I never knew that. Zekrom, I didn't know you were interested in astronomy,_ I noted, surprised.

My partner laughed in my head. _It is a piece of knowledge I picked up somewhere. I am surprised that you did not know it._

_Not all of us can be geniuses, pal,_ I teased._ But I think I've heard something like that before. I mean, I know the constellation – it's the one that looks like a Braviary, isn't it? And I might've heard of the star. I just didn't know they were connected. Or what the word meant. Huh. Guess you learn something new every day._

To Altaïr, I said, 'That's a good name.' And I meant it.

'Now you know my full name. It is only fair that you tell me yours.'

So Altaïr actually had a sense of humour? Huh.

'All right, you've got me there,' I laughed. 'Since you asked, Carrie isn't actually my name, not officially. My full name – the name my parents gave me – is Caroline Megan Hawkins.' I laughed awkwardly. 'Doesn't sound quite as impressive, does it?'

'Then why call yourself Carrie?'

'Short for Caroline. I prefer it. Caroline's just too...feminine.'

The Assassin gave me a funny look. 'You are a female.'

'Yes, a female who wields a scary dagger, is a deadly shot with a bow and has a bad attitude. Deal with it.' I grinned suddenly. 'Race you to those tree.'

As I nudged Kassie into a faster pace, I heard Zekrom's voice in my head again. _You see, Carrie? Getting to know him._

_Shut up,_ I told him, but I was smiling.

* * *

We stopped beside a stream, under the shade of a tree. It was the hottest part of the day, Altaïr informed me, so we needed to let the horses rest. I didn't object; I needed a break, too. I had never ridden this far before, and I was starting to hurt, not to mention the discomfort I was feeling from the sun.

While the horses drank, we cleared a space to sit. I reflected that my team would need something to eat and drink too, so I took out their Poké Balls.

Altaïr saw me. 'What are those?'

I laughed lightly. 'My friends. Come on out, guys!' With that, I let everyone out: Swampert, Simisage, Arcanine, Riolu and Zorua.

Altaïr staggered backwards in shock, almost falling onto his butt. I managed, with a supreme effort, not to laugh. He didn't cry out, though, which impressed me.

'Meet the team,' I said with a small smile. I gestured to each of my Pokémon in turn. 'Arcanine you've already met. This is Swampert—' Swampert nodded in greeting. 'Simisage—' Simisage waved a hand distractedly. 'Riolu—' I gestured to Riolu, standing next to me. 'And Zor—' I stopped. Where _was_ Zorua?

I whipped my head to my right at the sound of a familiar little voice, speaking out in confusion. I sighed.

'Yes, make this _more_ complicated, why don't you? Sorry, Altaïr, _that's_ Riolu, over there,' I sighed, pointing to where she _actually_ was – standing next to Swampert, almost hidden by his hefty body. '_This_ is Zorua.' I pointed down to the 'Riolu' standing to my left. 'Come on Zorua, stop fooling around. Say hello properly.'

'Riolu' looked at me, then jumped and spun, transforming into the little Dark-type: small and four-legged, covered in dark grey fur that merged with red at the head and paws, and a ruff of black fur at his neck. Altaïr jumped, and I could swear I heard one of my team snigger. I didn't have to imagine the satisfied little giggle that came from Zorua, though.

'Sorry,' I apologised, picking my Pokémon up. 'That was Zorua's Illusion ability.' At the Assassin's confused look, I explained, 'He can make himself look like someone else – human, Pokémon, whatever. He's a bit of a prankster.' I scratched the Dark-type's head. 'But he's a total sweetheart, honestly. Aren't you, boy?' Zorua answered me with a wet lick across the face.

'Ugh!' I pulled a face. 'Thank you, Zorua. Go on, say hello to Altaïr.' I put him down, at which point Zorua ran straight at the Assassin, yapping at his feet. Altaïr didn't look pleased.

Once I'd managed to calm Zorua down, we settled down for something to eat.

'Sorry, guys,' I told my team as I pulled the Pokémon food from out of the pack. 'I know it's nowhere near as good as the stuff Mum and Nick make. But I'm afraid it's all we've got.'

My team grumbled a bit, but didn't object.

Altaïr watched us curiously. 'They have... feelings? Personalities?'

'Uh-huh. As much as you or I.'

'And they understand what you say?'

'Yep. We can't actually speak each other's language, but they understand me, and I can work out what they're saying most of the time. It's easier with those who have been with me the longest, though.' Now it was my turn to look curious. 'Haven't you ever seen Pokémon before? There must be loads of species living around here. I bet there are even some in that stream, or at least further down. Magikarp, Basculin, maybe even Feebas if we're lucky.'

The Assassin shook his head. 'Maybe. I think so. But I didn't think that—'

'They had feelings?' I interrupted sharply. 'Well, they do. And don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.' Then I felt embarrassed for snapping, and elaborated. 'These guys are my friends. Swampert's been with me the longest – about nine years. I have others, but I can only take six with me at any one time, so I couldn't bring them all. But all of them are my friends. And I've met people who act as though they're nothing more than dumb animals.' I shook my head, remembering. 'It always makes me angry; that's why I snapped. I'm sorry.'

'Apology accepted,' he said calmly. Then, 'You said you could take six with you, yes?' Altaïr had clearly noticed something off. 'There are only five here.'

Oops. I didn't want to bring Zekrom into this – it would cause unneeded complications – but I had to say something. Altaïr was just so damned quick. 'Yeah, well... I had to leave my home in a hurry, and I wanted to take these guys, but couldn't bring Galena and Vee too... I figured it wasn't fair to take one and leave the other, so...' I fumbled. 'Oh – Galena and Vee are two Eevee. They're twins. They have nicknames, so I can distinguish between them. I— Hey, what's up, Simisage?' For my Grass-type had stood, and was pointing upwards. Glad of the distraction – the conversation had been getting awkward – I followed his gaze. 'Oh! Berries!'

Sure enough, Simisage had spotted that the tree we were under was laden with fruit – Oran Berries, from what I could see. Clearly, unlike that of the Unova region, the soil was of the right quality to grow them. I filed that away for future reference.

Simisage looked at me, questioning.

I gave in. 'All right. Go on.' Simisage ran towards the tree and scaled it, tugging berries from its branches. I shook my head fondly. 'Typical.'

'_Arcanine?'_ I turned to see Arc staring at me with huge pleading eyes. I knew what he was after.

'All right, Arc. You go and hunt. Just don't go too far, OK?'

Arc bounded off, closely followed by Zorua. 'And look after Zorua!' I yelled after them.

I sat back down. 'Those guys. Honestly. What am I going to do with them?' Riolu scrambled onto my lap, and I fed her a piece of bread, exchanging a fond look with Swampert.

Simisage soon returned, arms full of Berries. He offered some to us; I took one and gave it to Riolu, tossing another couple to Swampert. 'Save some for the others, eh, Simisage?' I said.

While we ate, Arcanine made a reappearance, Zorua bouncing at his side and something large that I didn't want to identify in his mouth. Whatever it was, it was very dead. 'Oh, Arc,' I said disapprovingly.

Arc gave me a big-eyed innocent look.

'Whatever. Just don't eat that in front of me, OK?' I shuddered and turned away.

We spent a couple of hours there, under the shade of the tree. Swampert played in the water with Riolu and Zorua, splashing them, making them giggle. Simisage sat perched on a branch, soaking up the sunlight, while Arc dozed, his head resting in my lap. I watched them all fondly, pleased that they had adjusted so quickly.

'Do you have any family, Altaïr?' I asked out of interest.

The Assassin was lying on his back, hood still up and eyes closed, but I knew he wasn't asleep. 'Why do you ask?'

'I just wondered.' I stroked Arcanine's head, waiting. Finally, he sighed.

'No. Not any more.' I waited some more, hoping he would elaborate. With another sigh, he did.

'My mother died when I was born. And my father died many years ago.'

'I'm sorry,' I murmured.

He sat up and looked at me properly. 'I didn't know my father well. Most of my childhood was spent training or studying, so I did not see him often. We were almost like strangers.' Then he added, 'But it still hurt.'

He breathed out heavily. 'I did not see it happen. But I heard it.' He closed his eyes.

I nodded. 'I'm sorry.' I couldn't say anything else. There were no words that could ease that pain. I couldn't imagine losing my family – didn't even want to imagine it.

After a few moments, he asked me, 'You mentioned your parents. Do you have any other family?'

I nodded. 'Yeah. My brothers. My little sister.' My stomach clenched as I thought of them. My family would have noticed I was missing by now. Galena and Vee, too, along with the rest of my team. They would all be worried sick.

I was the one who gave a sigh this time. 'I miss them.'

'Tell me about them,' he suggested.

'OK.' Regardless of whether he was only asking for something to say or was genuinely interested, it wasn't a bad idea. It might calm me down. I gathered my thoughts. 'My mother is called Megan. She's a Pokémon nurse – Pokémon are what we call these guys,' I clarified. I didn't know if the word existed yet, but I might as well use it. 'That's the collective name for them, and all the other species there are. There are a lot of species. I mean, a _lot_. My mother has a few of her own.' I smiled. 'She's a fantastic cook. And she's usually pretty easy-going around me. I swear she has the patience of a saint. I mean, she worries about me – she's my mum, it's her job to worry. But she never tries to hold me back, no matter how much she might want to.

'My father is called Hanno, and he has a bunch of Pokémon, too. Normal-types, mostly. He always gives me the best advice on how to care for these guys. He was my inspiration to have Pokémon in the first place. He worries about me too, but he's like my mum – he doesn't try to hold me back.

'Then there's my brother, Nick. His real name's Nicholas, but everyone calls him Nick for short. He's three years older than me. He has a load of Flying-types – you know, Pokémon that resemble birds and whatnot.' I smiled. 'I really used to look up to him when I was little. He always looked out for me. We even travelled together for a while. He's a great cook too, like our mother. I think I missed out on that particular trait, though,' I grinned. It was true – many of my various cookery attempts had ended in some spectacular failure, most often involving something spontaneously combusting.

'My other brother, Jose, is five years younger than me – fourteen. I doted on him when he was little – I still do, in fact. He has a Bulbasaur, a Grass-type, like Simisage here. He's training to be a Pokémon Ranger – they protect Pokémon in their natural environment,' I explained. Jose was studying at the Ranger School in the Almia region, at the suggestion of Kathryn, a Top Ranger we had met. 'I still think of him as a little kid, but he's not any more. It's hard to let go,' I admitted. 'I still call him 'little Jose', like I did when he was younger. It's hard.

'And then there's Grace. She's seven. I dote on her, too. She's too little to have Pokémon of her own yet, but she loves them as much as the rest of us do. She's a sweet kid,' I smiled. 'Younger siblings are a pain in the neck sometimes, but I still love them to bits.'

'It sounds as though you are very close,' Altaïr said quietly.

'Yeah, we are. I miss them. A lot.' Now I had to bury my face in Arcanine's fur.

'I did not mean to upset you,' Altaïr said awkwardly.

'You didn't.' I lifted my head and gave him a brave smile. 'Anyway, I'm here, and there isn't really anything I can do until I find what I'm meant to be looking for. So I've got to live with it.'

Then I had a thought that made me laugh. 'Do you realise that's the third time today that one of us has had to apologise to the other?'

I saw the hint of a smile under Altaïr's hood. 'I suppose we are getting along.'

'Now all we have to do is keep it up. And not kill each other,' I added pointedly.

'We will see,' was all I got in response.

Oh well. It was a start.

* * *

'Ugh!'

My eyes snapped open, but it didn't make that much difference; my vision was almost entirely obscured by a lump of grey fur that was standing on my chest and neck, eagerly licking my face. Lovely.

'Zorua,' I moaned, swatting at him as best I could. 'Gerroff-out-of-it!'

Zorua jumped off of me and stood there, wagging his tail. I sat up, throwing the blanket off me, yawned, and then shivered in the sudden chill.

'Did you _really_ have to wake me up, Zorua? Look, there's Altaïr; go and lick _him_.' Zorua immediately bounded off towards the snoozing Assassin stretched out on a bed roll.

We had made camp the night before, stopping beside a well. While the horses settled down, I had let my team out of their Poké Balls while Altaïr attempted to make a fire. 'Attempted' being the operative word.

'Having trouble there?' I had asked innocently.

'No.' Just as he said that, the tiny spark he had managed to produce fizzled out pathetically. I struggled not to laugh.

'Oh for goodness' sake, give it here.' I shoved him out of the way and produced the box of matches from my pouch. 'You unpack. Let me do the fire.'

Five minutes later, I was still wrestling with the pile of wood, surrounded by broken and spent matches, swearing and ready to punch something. 'For the love of—! Seriously, how hard can it be to light a freaking fire?'

At that point, Arcanine had wandered over and rested one paw on the wood. Seconds later, we had a blaze.

I'd had to laugh. 'Flare Blitz as a firelighter. Who'd 'a thunk it? Thanks, Arc.'

Anyway, after we'd eaten, I had offered to take the first watch, my reasoning being that with my Pokémon and honed senses, I would be pretty good at dealing with bandits and whatnot. I had woken Altaïr about halfway through the night, hoping for at least _some_ sleep. Obviously, though, Zorua had had _too much_ sleep, and wanted the rest of us to wake up too.

The little Dark-type was now standing on the Assassin's chest, wagging his tail and licking his face. 'Yeah, you wake him up, Zorua,' I sniggered. What was Altaïr doing asleep, anyway? He was meant to be on watch! I was going to have words with him.

Like I had, Altaïr sat up and swatted at Zorua, irritated. 'Get away,' I heard him mutter. Zorua paid him no heed, yapping cheerfully and trying to jump into his lap – at which point Altaïr snapped. He lunged and took a swipe at Zorua with what I very much suspected was that retractable blade of his, because I heard my Pokémon squeak in surprise.

'Hey, hey, hey!' I ran towards them, scooping up Zorua in my arms, safely away from harm. 'That's enough, you two!' To Altaïr, I snapped, 'What the hell d'you think you're doing?'

'It woke me up,' he snapped back. His hood had fallen down, and he quickly whisked it back over his head – but not before I caught a glimpse of short dark brown hair, light-coloured skin and those dark eyes. Damn, I was definitely going to be daydreaming on the road today.

'He,' I corrected. '_He_ woke you up. And about time too. I thought you were meant to be on watch?'

He shrugged. 'I fell asleep.' Just as I was about to tell him off some more, he pointed out, 'You said that any bandits would be scared off by your— What do you call them?' He gestured towards my team, all of whom had been woken by the noise. Swampert was already at my side, ready to protect me if I needed it. It was such a natural gesture from the Water-type, so automatic, that it almost made the alien surroundings seem familiar. I could have laughed if I wasn't so riled up.

With one arm, I reached out to rest a placating hand on my friend's shoulder. 'Easy, Swamps. It's OK.' My eyes were still fastened on the Assassin, though, watching for any movement that threatened harm.

Swampert relaxed a little, but still kept a watchful eye on the young man. The young man with the scary blade who was still watching us closely.

I glared at him. 'You leave my friends alone,' I warned. A dark, threatening tone slipped into my voice, and I had to take a deep breath before I was able to continue. _Not now, don't kick in now._

'Try to hurt them again,' I swore, 'and I can promise that you won't be hurting anything again for a very long time. And that won't be conducive to your goal of reparation, will it?'

I didn't wait for a response, but instead focused on chastising Zorua. 'Listen, you,' I told him, 'no more bouncing on people's heads, OK?'

Zorua looked reproachful. I didn't blame him, considering that I had told him to wake the Assassin, but I wasn't going to admit that within Altaïr's hearing. I might have been reckless, but I wasn't suicidal.

'I know you're only playing, boy, but try and calm it down, 'kay? Listen, why don't you go and play with Riolu? I'm sure she won't mind. Go on.' I put him down and nudged him with my foot, but he just ran around my feet, yapping. I rolled my eyes.

'I know what he wants. Altaïr, can you give us a few minutes? Zorua needs to run off some of that endless energy. Simisage!' I called to my Grass-type. 'I know it's early, but do you want to train with Zorua for a bit?'

'_Simi simi!'_ Simisage looked up for it, so we moved out into a clear space, Altaïr and even the horses watching curiously.

'Let's keep this gentle, OK guys? And that means no flattening Zorua, Simisage.' I had to warn him, because Simisage had a habit of going a bit far while training, especially with a team member who got on his nerves. Sure, he was generally a very docile Simisage, but he was still a Simisage, and they had a bit of a wild temper. And Zorua could be a spectacularly annoying Pokémon.

'Ready?' I asked. Zorua bounced; Simisage gave me a thumbs-up. 'OK! Zorua, start off with Fury Swipes!'

Zorua raced towards Simisage, sharp little claws flashing, but the Grass-type stepped neatly out of the way without my having to prompt him. 'Great! Now, Simisage, use Energy Ball! Zorua, block it with Fury Swipes!'

The practice battle continued like this for a while. I was trying to help Zorua focus his moves better – easier said than done when he was the most hyperactive Pokémon I had ever met. I called time before anyone got hurt. 'OK, that's enough! Good job, guys. Great stuff.'

The two of them immediately ran over to me, and I hugged them both. 'Great, you two. Zorua, that was much better, well done. Simisage, great as always.'

Zorua bounced some more, but he was panting, and looked tuckered out. _Thank Arceus,_ I thought wryly. 'Now that's out of the way, you want something to eat?' This was met with enthusiasm by the whole team, so I scooped up Zorua and headed back to our camp, where Altaïr was waiting.

'What was that about?' he asked.

I grinned despite my irritation towards him as I ferreted around in the packs, searching for the Pokémon food. 'We were training a little. It's a normal occurrence for us, actually. To be honest though, I was mostly trying to wear out Zorua. He's so hyperactive, he needed to let off some steam.' I looked back up at him; I felt I had to apologise, especially since what had happened had been partly my fault. 'Sorry he jumped on you. He was just being friendly.'

Altaïr grunted. 'I suppose I have to get used to it.'

'Yep. Glad we've got that cleared up.' I finally found the food and began distributing breakfast amongst my team. I would eat while on the road. 'No hunting this morning, Arc,' I told the Fire-type. 'I'm sorry, but we need to get moving. You can hunt later, when we stop, OK?'

Arc grumbled a bit, but didn't argue.

While the team ate, I fed the horses and began combing out Kassie's mane. 'Morning, Kassie,' I said to the mare. 'How you doing, eh? That's it, girl,' I murmured.

When I turned to start packing up my things, I noticed an incredulous expression on what I could see of the Assassin's face. 'What now?' I asked, irritated.

'Have you given that horse a _name_?'

Now I was really pissed off. _Already_. 'Yes, I have, actually. What's wrong with that? We have names; these guys—' I gestured to my team, '—have names; why shouldn't she have one?'

'It's a _horse_.'

So we were back to animosity, were we? 'Yeah, so?' I snapped back. 'Why the hell does that mean she shouldn't have her own identity? And, FYI, Kassie is a _she_. Get with the program. Now shut up.' I turned away and flung my things back into my pouch, then went to tack up Kassie.

This was a good start to the day.

_Get on his good side, Zekrom?_ I thought bitterly, remembering my partner's words from the previous day. _Fat chance of that._

Zekrom sighed at me. _I can see why you like him, Carrie. You two really are alike._

* * *

**Phew, that was a long chapter. I hope I haven't made Altaïr too out of character here, but I wanted to get some introductions between the characters out of the way, since they won't have much time for that once the assassinating starts. The next chapter will probably be a long one too, but I promise it'll have some action. Until then, peace out.**


	5. Chapter 4: Welcome to Damascus

**Right, two things before we start: one, sorry for the delay, I had a lot of personal stuff going on that prevented me from writing as often as I'd have liked; and two, this is another long chapter. Let's go.**

**Edit: I've gone back and fixed some formatting and continuity errors in this and previous chapters, so yeah, we have that.**

* * *

I swore as I slipped one foot out of the stirrup. My legs were aching worse than they had the time I had climbed up Mount Coronet in pursuit of Team Galactic, and _that_ had been a trip and a freaking half. I stretched my leg out straight, letting out a sigh. _That's better._

We had been on the road for almost three days since leaving Masyaf. It hadn't been the greatest of trips. Since our bust-up at breakfast two days ago, Altaïr and I had barely spoken. The Assassin was clearly affronted by my arguing with him, and his arrogant attitude got on my nerves. Despite various attempts at persuasion from Zekrom and repeated pleas for us to stop arguing from Riolu, almost every one of our exchanges had involved some form of disagreement.

I replaced my left foot in the stirrup and repeated the process with my right. Dear Arceus, my legs _hurt_, and I wasn't even walking! Was this what happened when you rode a horse for too long?

_I am afraid so, Carrie. But take comfort; Damascus is less than fifteen minutes away._

That was the most welcome pronouncement I could have hoped for. _Thank Arceus. Zekrom, you're a star. I swear, if I stay sitting in this saddle for much longer, I think my legs are going to fall off._

_That is unlikely._ That was my Zekrom: funny without meaning to be. _Carrie,_ he continued, _I must speak with you._

_Sure, Zekrom. What's on your mind?_

_You are._ Zekrom spoke bluntly, so I knew he was serious. _You and Altaïr have been sniping at each other for almost seventy-two hours. It has to stop before you reach the city, otherwise it could make things difficult. Antagonising Altaïr while he is on a mission may prove hazardous to your health._

I didn't want to talk about this. _It's not my fault, Zekrom,_ I protested. _He started it! Most of it. _He's_ not going to apologise, so why the hell should—_

_Carrie. Listen to me: I do not care who started it. You are both acting like children. _Both_ of you,_ he said before I could protest further. _Altaïr is like you: prideful and arrogant. You both believe yourself to be in the right._

_I _am_ in the right!_ I cried. _You know I am!_

_Altaïr is right too, Carrie – you _are_ a pain sometimes. And he is certainly not going to apologise, so you need to make amends yourself. It falls upon you to be the bigger...woman...swallow your pride or eat humble pie or whatever the expression you humans use is, and be more civil to him. Understand?_

I had no retort for that. _Yeah, I get it,_ I muttered.

_Good. So start now, or I will personally come down there and beat some sense into both of you._ I didn't particularly want to find out if he was being serious or not. Ignoring the fact that he was over four feet taller than both of us, having a huge Electric-type dragon dropping in would definitely attract a lot of unneeded attention.

I swore to myself. This was so not going to go well.

'So, what's first on the agenda in the city?' I called to the Assassin.

He turned around in the saddle and spared me a brief glance. 'You are speaking to me again, I see.'

'That could change,' I retorted without thinking.

_Carrie!_ Zekrom snapped. I relented.

'So? Plan?' I prompted.

Altaïr sounded pretty grumpy when he told me, 'First I must visit the Assassins' Bureau.' I saw his lips twist in disgust.

'Not your favourite activity, huh?' I commented, raising an eyebrow.

He glared at me. 'If you must know, I did not have to report to a Rafiq before I was stripped of my rank. Now I must ask permission before I commence my mission. Are you satisfied?'

I raised both hands in a 'whoa, Nelly' gesture. 'Hey, cool it. I was just asking. Don't you get all snippy with me.'

He grunted and ignored me.

_That went well,_ I said sarcastically.

_Carrie,_ Zekrom chided. _Apologise._

_Why the hell should I?_

_Because I have noticed a large number of guards located at the city gate. I believe you will need Altaïr's assistance to enter; they do not look particularly friendly._

I swore again. This whole trip was proving to be a huge pain in the neck. 'Altaïr?'

'What is it now?' he huffed.

'Just the small problem of getting through the gate. I'm assuming the guards aren't partial to allowing just anyone to walk in.'

This time the Assassin turned right around in the saddle to look suspiciously at me. 'You said that you had never been here before.'

_Damn it._ I mentally kicked myself. For the second time, I had almost given Zekrom away. 'I haven't,' I said back. 'But most cities usually have a wall, right? Only way in is therefore through a gate, and, uh...' I was thinking fast, trying to remember scattered bits of history lessons that I had only half-listened to. 'City gates are usually guarded, aren't they? So, you know...'

The Assassin stared at me for a few moments. Thankfully, he seemed to accept my answer. 'Yes, there will be guards. They will not notice me; I will simply blend in with a crowd.' He turned back to me and seemed to look me up and down. 'You may not have such fortune.'

'What the hell's _that_ supposed to mean?' I snapped, offended.

_Carrie,_ Zekrom said warningly.

'It means,' Altaïr shot back, 'that you stand out too much to be able to blend.'

Ouch. 'Why don't you just call a door a door, huh?' I muttered. 'I _know_ I stick out. I _know_. Funnily enough, that's why I was asking how we would get in. So d'you want to stop wisecracking and _help_?'

This was met with a period of silence. Then, 'When we reach the city, I will figure something out.'

'Thanks,' I muttered sarcastically.

* * *

I was right about the gate.

'Now, how the hell are we supposed to get through that?' I asked.

'One thing at a time.' Altaïr was walking ahead of me, leading his horse to a small open stable. I got it – we couldn't leave our horses unattended, so I removed my bag from the saddle and swung it over my shoulder. I let Altaïr handle the transaction, watching as he traded quiet words with a stable boy, eventually handing over a few coins and his horse.

Handling Pokémon was so much easier, I decided. At least I could keep my team close.

'Now you be a good girl, Kassie,' I told the mare as I handed her over. She blew in my face, giving me a look that I could only describe as reproachful.

So now my horse was guilt-tripping me. Great.

'I know, girl, but it's only for a little while. They'll look after you here until we get back, OK?'

Kassie snorted. I wanted to stay with her a little longer, but I sensed that the Assassin was growing impatient.

'I've gotta go, Kass, I'm sorry. I'll see you soon though, OK, sweetie?' With a final stroke of her neck, I turned and broke into a jog in order to keep up with Altaïr.

The Assassin muttered something to himself.

'What was that?' I asked.

'It's a—'

'If you finish that sentence with the word "horse",' I warned before he could continue, 'I'm gonna smack you. Now. How do we get through that gate?'

It wasn't really a gate as such – just an archway in the wall – but guarding it were one, two, three, _four_ soldiers. I suspected that they wouldn't be happy about us just walking in.

'I told you. _I_ will blend into a crowd.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'Good luck with that. You stick out almost as much as I do, you know. You see anyone else wearing white robes?'

Altaïr gave me a withering look from under his hood. 'Scholars.'

'Scholars?' I looked around. There weren't many people around, given that it was pretty late in the afternoon by now. That was the reason that something caught my eye.

'Like him?'

Not too far from us, I had noticed an older man dressed in white – plainer robes than Altaïr's, but similar enough that I could understand his logic about blending in. That wasn't why I was staring, though.

Surrounding him were four armed men, their longswords sheathed at their waists. From the chainmail tunics they wore, I guessed that they were Saracen soldiers, not Crusaders. Two of them were standing with their backs to us, watching as the others shoved the older man back and forth between them. All four were laughing.

Anger roiled in my gut. Of the many things I couldn't stand – backstabbers, racists, people who mistreated Pokémon – bullies came close to the top of the list. It wasn't just the bullying, either – it was the casualness of the attack that infuriated me.

One guard threw the scholar to the ground, knocking his hood back from his face, and another kicked him in the ribs. The soldiers' taunting voices carried over to me, and although I couldn't understand what they were saying, I got the gist.

A soft snarl tumbled from my throat.

_Don't do it, Carrie,_ Zekrom warned me. I didn't respond.

Altaïr had followed my gaze. I sensed that he liked this as little as I did, but he didn't react.

'No,' he told me.

That was enough for me.

My feet carried me across the ground swiftly, towards the little group. 'Hey,' I shouted.

All four soldiers turned to me in surprise.

'Why don't you go and pick on someone who can actually fight back, you cowards,' I snarled.

They probably didn't understand me, but the tone of my voice was unmistakable – it was a challenge.

They drew their swords.

Then the soldier on my immediate right was left empty-handed, staring in surprise at the blade that was spinning out of his hand. My boot connected with his abdomen, and he doubled over.

I spun my own sword in a quick circle, familiarising myself with the weapon, and grinned.

_Bring it on._

I heard Altaïr mutter something behind me, but I couldn't take the time to figure out what it was; the three other guards were rushing at me.

My sword blocked the first strike with only a little difficulty; the recoil left the offending guard stumbling backwards, safely out of range. I kicked the man next to me in the side of the knee, then delivered a swift side kick to his hand as he staggered, making him drop his weapon. The third guard brought his blade round in a long arc, aiming for my head; I ducked under it and slammed the flat of my sword down on his arm as it followed through. He grunted in pain, but kept hold of his sword.

Until, that was, my fist connected with the side of his jaw and he crumpled backwards to the ground.

One down.

The guard to my immediate right, the one I had disarmed first, had managed to retrieve his weapon, but was still on his hands and knees in the dust by the time I had focused back on him, so I didn't have too much difficulty in immobilising him with another kick, this time to the side of his head, just enough to stun him.

Two down.

The third guard hadn't attacked yet; he came at me with a savage thrust that would have impaled me if I had been any slower to dodge. As it was, the blade sliced across my armour at my ribs, and a stinging sensation shortly afterwards indicated that it had cut the skin too. I winced, but took a clumsy swing at him with my own weapon, managing to hit him in the side before clocking him on the temple with my elbow. He folded to the ground like his fellows. Even with the chain mail protecting him, he might have a couple of bruises soon.

_And this is why you should always wear a helmet,_ I quipped for Zekrom's benefit. He would probably appreciate the humour.

I turned my attention back to the last soldier.

This man, much younger than I had expected, was clutching his sword tightly, as though it would protect him. He burbled something, then suddenly turned tail and ran, screaming incoherently.

Huh. I didn't think I was _that_ scary.

'Now you've done it,' I heard Altaïr mutter behind me.

'Done what?' I wasn't breathing too hard, but the heat was getting to me, and I was feeling uncomfortably warm. My sword was still in my left hand; my right explored the wound in my side. It hurt, but the cut was shallow. I'd live.

Then I saw what the Assassin was indicating: the four guards on the gate, alerted by their fellow's screams, yelling and running at us.

Oops.

_Well, that is one way to distract them,_ Zekrom said sardonically.

'Uh...' I looked around me nervously. At the soldiers lying on the ground around me in varying states of consciousness. At the scholar, now back on his feet and standing a safe distance away from us, looking shell-shocked. At Altaïr, glaring furiously at me. 'Um...'

There was only one thing for it. I sheathed my sword. Took one more glance at Altaïr.

I ran.

* * *

_This girl is going to get us both killed._

He had already seen that Carrie had an explosive temper. He both had seen evidence of and been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue and knew that she would be difficult to handle.

He had not expected her to do _this_.

To be fair to the girl, Altaïr too had been angered by the sight of four armed men harassing the scholar. It was not an uncommon occurrence in the cities, but he had never been comfortable to stand by and watch it. He had himself intervened many times before. However, this time, interfering would have been too risky; he did not want to attract attention to himself even before entering the city, and besides, he had a girl of nineteen with him who he very much needed to keep alive.

Clearly, Carrie had not considered that. Instead, she had strode straight towards the soldiers, shouting. Anyone could see that she was seeking a fight, and the guards had obliged.

Altaïr had experienced the girl's unarmed combat himself, and, although he had overpowered her, he could not deny her skill. As an observer, rather than a combatant, he saw that she was not quite as competent with a weapon, but good enough.

She had drawn her short sword so quickly that the guards had been unable to see it coming. More likely, they had not expected a young woman to be carrying a weapon. In that first moment, Carrie had held an advantage, and had swiftly disarmed one man by using her heavier blade – bright silver in colour, the colour of the aura he had seen around her back in Masyaf – to knock the sword from his hand before kicking him in the stomach. It was an impressive display, he had to admit, but the fact remained that it was certainly nothing close to the quiet entry he had wanted.

Carrie now stood facing the other three guards, making a circular motion with her sword, taunting her opponents, as though she had not provoked them enough. Even with her back to him, he could almost see the smug half-smile that had been on her face back in Al Mualim's study. That almost irritated him more than her apparent inability to _follow orders_.

'You are a fool,' he muttered at her.

If she heard him, she gave no indication, instead focusing her attention on the three still-armed guards who were preparing to attack.

He briefly considered stepping in – after all, he _was_ supposed to protect her, and four trained soldiers against one nineteen-year-old girl did not seem to be a fair fight – but decided against it. For now, anyway. The girl looked confident enough, and if she found herself overwhelmed, it might teach her a lesson in when to hold back.

As it turned out, Carrie did not require assistance. Within a minute, she had disarmed and incapacitated three of the four soldiers. The skill with which she fought was impressive for a female, especially one so young: she used mainly her fists and feet for strikes, moving quickly but with purpose. At one point, a sword appeared to cut her in the left side, but she continued to fight. With the short sword, however, she appeared less sure of her movements, swinging almost haphazardly but somehow hitting her targets. Her technique was awkward and somewhat clumsy – clearly she had not fought with a weapon often – but he had to admit that the raw skill was there.

And he also had to notice that she had only stunned her opponents rather than kill them. Three guards were on the ground, but he could see their chests rising and falling as they breathed, and at least one was swearing incoherently. The girl could have killed them; she simply chose not to. For whatever reason, the fiery-tempered girl who had viciously fought him and even dared attack the Master was unwilling to take the lives of the men whose actions had roused her anger in the first place.

He might have felt slightly more warmly towards her for that, if not for the fact that the soldiers would recognise her when they recovered, thereby making his job of protecting her more difficult. Or the fact that the fourth soldier was running towards the gate, calling out for assistance.

Altaïr came to her side to see her sweating and breathing shallowly, still clutching her sword – in her left hand, he noted absently. Odd, given that she had held her dagger in her right hand back in Masyaf, but he dismissed it.

Her other hand was clasped against her side where she had been struck. If she was hurt, she did not comment on it.

'Now you have done it,' he told her.

'Done what?' She seemed to genuinely not know to what he was referring. Then she followed his gaze to where the soldiers on the gate were approaching at a run.

_Stupid girl,_ Altaïr was thinking. Why could she have not listened to him? _He_ was the Master Assassin; she was simply the traveller who had been foisted on him. Regardless of her apparent competence in battle, she should have obeyed him.

_No,_ he reminded himself. _Not Master Assassin. Not any more._

But still, he was in charge, and this girl clearly had no concept of _subtlety_.

And then as though she had not already made a significant error, she fled; fled towards the gates, dodging past the soldiers, her sword sheathed at her back, leaving him to face the guards.

Two of them peeled off to pursue the girl, shouting at the 'infidel' to stop. The soldier who had fled the battle before was nowhere to be seen – probably, the man had decided he had had enough of this for one day. The remaining two took one look at Altaïr, and the cry went up: 'Assassin!'

He sighed and drew his sword.

The fight was long, by his standards; it had been almost four days since Altaïr had had the opportunity to train with the blade, and who knew how long he had been unconscious since being stabbed by his master? But he had not been a Master Assassin for nothing, and he was able to dispatch his foes without injury. With the dying soldiers sprawled in the dust with their fellows, he turned his attention to the scholar who had indirectly sparked this incident.

The older man was leaning against a stall nearby, looking shaken but otherwise unhurt. His robe was dirtied and torn, his face scratched, but he raised trembling hands to the Assassin in gratitude.

'Thank you, my boy,' he said, his voice as shaky as his limbs. 'I only wish my sons were half as brave as you.'

He nodded in acknowledgement. 'Are you injured?'

'No, thank you... You have done me a great kindness, young man. If you ever need assistance, you have only to ask.' Then a look of confusion passed across his face. 'The one who first approached... Was that...a _woman_?'

'Yes.' Altaïr scowled involuntarily. _Stupid little girl._

'Incredible... Young man, if you see her, will you pass on my thanks?'

'I will. You should leave before more guards arrive,' he added.

'Yes, I will. Thank you again.' The scholar hurried away, and Altaïr quickly made his way to the now unguarded gate. It would not do to linger, with five bodies lying here. Patrols would pass by the gate soon, and would see the carnage, so he took the opportunity to hurry through and blend into the crowd.

He moved through the streets, aiming to leave the city entrance far enough behind him that no guards would become suspicious. He saw no sign of Carrie on his way. Whether that meant that she had managed to escape from the guards or not, he had no way of knowing. He had seen no blood on the ground, no signs of a struggle, but that meant nothing; this district of Damascus was large, and the girl could have fled in any direction.

It was not his responsibility if she was hurt, anyway. Yes, he had been ordered to protect her, but he could not protect her if she insisted on running off, could he? Surely his master would see that. But, inexplicably, he found himself hoping that she was safe.

Was he starting to feel something for her?

Impossible. She was a child. An insolent girl with a superiority complex, a non-existent 'partner' and some strange ideas. Why should he feel anything for her? He would tolerate her until she found whatever she claimed to be seeking, then he would be rid of her.

Provided she survived that long, of course.

He found himself so wrapped up in his thoughts that he was startled when he heard a voice.

He almost jumped. Naturally, he controlled himself; it must have been a fellow Assassin. It was not uncommon for Brothers to assist one another on missions; perhaps one had some information for him. As discreetly as he could, he looked around him, searching for the distinctive white robe.

He found nothing. _I must have imagined it,_ he thought. It was disconcerting, though; the Assassin prided himself on his ability to focus solely on _fact_, on the here and now.

Then out of nowhere, it came again – and this time he realised that the voice was coming from _above_ him.

As casually as he could, he glanced towards the roofs, searching despite himself. But something, some instinct, compelled him to listen. Something—

Then the _something_ dropped to the street beside him, causing him to jump back in surprise, knocking into someone behind him.

He muttered an apology to the irate civilian he had collided with, but his attention was mostly focused on what had just landed next to him. Something small and lithe that beckoned to him with one little hand and began working its way through the crowd, leading him down an alleyway, where it turned to face him.

It was a two-legged creature with a long, thick tail; small in stature but not at all frail; covered in short fur, darkish blue in colour but for its legs, upper torso, and a mask-like pattern on its face, which were all black. Its neck was coloured yellow, and two rounded bumps rested on the back of its front paws. He had recognised it the moment he saw it, but he had not imagined that it would appear _out of nowhere_ like that. Carrie had called it Riolu.

Annoyingly, it looked pleased to see him; its large red eyes were shining, and its little mouth was curled upwards in a smile. What was it doing here? More to the point, how had it even found him?

'What do you want?' he snapped at it in an undertone. It irritated him that he had been taken by surprise by this little creature; more, that he had reacted in the way that he had. He managed to keep his voice low, though. It wouldn't do to be overheard talking to an animal— no, a Pokémon; that was what Carrie had called them.

His angry tone did not seem to affect the little creature; it raised one arm and pointed upwards, to its left. Then with one bound, it was standing atop the roof, peering down at him.

Altaïr blinked in surprise. For such a small creature, it could certainly jump.

Riolu made a hoarse noise that might have been meant as encouraging. It took a few steps away from the edge, then looked back at him. Did it mean him to follow?

Comprehension dawned. 'Did Carrie send you?'

The small blue creature bobbed its head up and down vigorously. He took that as a yes.

'She's alive?' Another head bob.

Inwardly, the Assassin cursed; whether out of annoyance or relief, he was unsure. Why should he feel relieved, anyway? It would not be his fault if the girl got herself killed...

But Al Mualim would probably blame him anyway. It would slow his progress towards redemption.

Relief that he would not lose his chance of redemption. That was what it was. Yes.

He clambered to Riolu's level. 'Lead the way.'

With another smile, the little creature began running across the roof, turning at intervals to look back at him. Again, he was startled at its agility. Was that natural, he wondered, or did it have to train, as he did, to achieve that speed and strength? He made a mental note to ask Carrie about it.

It was fortunate that there were few archers patrolling the roofs that evening. The fact that Riolu was leading him over them indicated the possibility that Carrie had chosen to hide up here. For all her faults, he had to admire the girl's ingenuity – he himself had found that climbing up high could slow down pursuers enough that he could get out of sight.

His suspicions were confirmed when the little blue creature stopped beside a garden terrace, rapping on the wooden frame with one paw. He moved the curtain aside, revealing, as he had known it would, a pale feminine face, framed by short hair the colour of earth and wearing a sheepish smile: Carrie, apparently uninjured, with an infuriatingly bright look in her eyes.

'Hey,' she said.

Altaïr sighed.

* * *

It was just lucky that I had experience in running away from things, I mused. At least I only had two guards chasing me; it could have been a lot worse.

Running away wasn't an option I usually took. I had always preferred to stand and fight rather than run. Unless, of course, running away was the wiser option. That was one of those times.

Sure, I had taken out those three guards. But the sudden rush of adrenaline had been wearing off, and I wasn't in the mood for any more fighting – those four guards at the gate had done nothing to me or the scholar. It wasn't just that, though: I was afraid that I would go too far, that my anger would take over; that I would be filled with an insane bloodlust that would drive me to kill. It had almost happened in Masyaf – if not for Altaïr holding his blade to my neck, I might have taken his life without a thought. And I never wanted to kill, not ever again.

So I had fled.

I _had_ expected Altaïr to follow, but what the hell – if he wanted to pick a fight with those guys, that was his lookout. Anyway, I had myself to worry about.

The soldiers were doing a good job of keeping up with me. They _did_ know the city well, I conceded. All I could say was that I was starting to regret running away; my legs were hurting like hell, my bag was swinging wildly across my body and hampering my progress, and that cut in my side was starting to really sting.

_Take a right,_ Zekrom called to me. How the hell did he know where I was? I couldn't take the time to look up and check, but I really hoped that he wasn't flying overhead. That would be all I needed: a great black dragon terrifying the life out of everyone. Altaïr would kill me.

_Assuming he does not kill you when you find him,_ Zekrom pointed out.

I swung round the corner he had indicated. _Not the time, Zekrom!_

He had a point, though. It was beginning to dawn on me (a little late, I had to concede) that I had made a huge mistake in picking a fight with those soldiers. Fencing, it seemed, was not one of my strong points – I was aware that only sheer blind luck had saved me from serious injury back there. Yes, it had solved the problem of how I was going to get into the city and saved an innocent man from further humiliation and torment, but I had to admit that it wasn't exactly subtle and was likely to get me killed.

I would have to remember that.

The streets were more crowded than I had expected for this time of the day, and that made it difficult to move quickly. I had to resort to slipping through narrow gaps, jumping over crates and even shoving people out of my way, receiving yells and what I very much suspected were curses in return.

'Sorry! 'scuse me!' They probably didn't understand me, but I apologised to the various citizens anyway. It didn't help much; when I took a quick glance over my shoulder, I was shocked to see that the guards were almost on top of me.

'Damn it!' I sped up, but I could see this ending badly. In desperation, I leaped straight through a stand, avoiding most of the crowd but earning screams from onlookers and furious admonitions from the merchant whose stock I'd trampled on. I couldn't stop to apologise.

_Zekrom! Where's Altaïr?_ I called.

My partner clearly thought I had lost my mind. _Should you not be worrying about yourself, Carrie?_

_Is he nearby, Zekrom? Tell me!_

This time he understood what I wanted. _Hold on._ Zekrom was silent for a moment, then told me, _He is in the city, but I can't see him. I can't guide him to you without being observed._

_Damn it!_ I thought. To the dragon, I yelled, _Zekrom, I can't shake them!_

_Find a clear street or an alleyway. It will give you more space. Don't give up, Carrie. You can outrun anyone._

_Not on these legs, pal._ I took his advice anyway and took the next turn I saw. Then, joy of joys – an alley. I sped up and skidded round the corner, dodging past a couple of men who I strongly suspected were drunk. Just like in the more scummy areas of Castelia City, boozing was clearly a problem here too. But with my path mostly clear, I could create some space between me and my pursuers, which I did.

Despite my momentary lead, though, I knew I couldn't keep running all night. I had to get out of sight somehow, find somewhere to hide. But if I kept going, I'd find myself hampered by crowds again. How to avoid them?

Then inexplicably, as though the universe had been waiting for me to ask, I saw it: a ladder, resting against a wall.

I had never run over a rooftop before, but from what I could see, the ones here were flat, so it was probably my best chance for a clear run. Flee over the roofs, create some space, climb down, hide somewhere while the soldiers were climbing down. Easy in theory, probably impossible in practice. But hey, it'd be a new experience.

My hands clasped the ladder, and I began to climb. It wasn't the most stable thing I had ever climbed – the wooden rungs warped under my feet, making me sure that they would snap and dump me unceremoniously to the ground – but I couldn't afford to be picky. Still, I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as I reached the roof.

Below me, the two guards were yelling at each other, apparently still determined to stop me. One of them made to begin ascending after me.

'Oh no you don't,' I muttered. With one foot, I dislodged the ladder from its position against the wall, sending it crashing to the ground. It landed on the first man's foot, which I found very cheering. The other yelled at me, waving his sword in a manner he might have thought was threatening.

I only paused long enough to give the pair of them the finger before taking off again.

Assuming the soldiers weren't complete morons – which was a bit of a stretch of the imagination, if their previous actions had anything to go by – it wouldn't take them long to right the ladder and come after me. But I was increasing the distance between us with every stride, and I had already spotted a potential hiding place.

I had no idea what it was – wooden frame, square base, raised sides, little pointy roof – but it had lengths of green cloth hanging down each side, obscuring whatever might be inside from casual onlookers. That worked.

I brushed the cloth aside and clambered inside.

For the first time since the melee outside the city walls, I could breathe out in relief. Hopefully the guards would decide it too much of a bother to climb onto the roof after me, and if they did, it was pretty unlikely that they'd bother looking for me. I hoped. But I unsheathed my dagger and ducked down as low as I could – to avoid the possibility of my outline being visible through the curtain – just to be safe.

It wasn't too long later that my first hope was shattered. Footsteps. Two sets. Clearly these two _weren't_ completely dim after all. Either that, or they were just very determined.

Tensing, I tightened my grip on the hilt of my dagger. Waited.

The footsteps came closer, pounding sharply against the stone. Slowed.

I held my breath, praying to Arceus that they wouldn't think to look inside.

Voices floated to me from outside; I didn't recognise the language. And if I couldn't understand them, I wouldn't be able to tell if they were planning on searching or not...

_Go away, go away now,_ I urged them mentally. Oh, what I wouldn't give for some form of mind control... _Come on, walk away, there's nothing here that'd interest you..._

An exclamation. Was it of triumph or frustration? I couldn't risk calming my mind to find out; my ability didn't work if my own thoughts and emotions were in overdrive.

Then, just as I felt like my lungs were about to implode from lack of oxygen, the footsteps moved away.

I took one deep breath before I ended up passing out, but didn't dare relax. Was it a trap? A ploy to lure me out of hiding? I couldn't tell, and couldn't risk peeking out to check.

After an agonising wait, which must have been only about fifteen seconds but felt more like fifteen minutes, I heard Zekrom's voice. _They're leaving. They're climbing down._ Twenty seconds later, _They've gone._

I let out a huge shaky breath, then collapsed in a heap and leaned against a wooden strut, setting my dagger down beside me. That had been more than a little nerve-wracking. _Thanks, pal. I really thought I'd had it then. Hey, how did you know I was here anyway? I thought you were looking for Altaïr?_

_I always know where you are, Carrie,_ he replied, sounding a little surprised.

I hadn't realised that. Even after sixteen months of knowing each other, Zekrom could still surprise me. _Huh. Good thing too. I was about to snap in half from the tension here._

_Best to wait there for a while until they move further away. They might decide to come after you again if they see you, at least tonight._

That was good advice. _OK._ Then a thought struck me. _Altaïr'll find me, though, right? I don't fancy wandering around the city without him._

_You told me before that you wanted nothing to do with him because he was – to use your words – an arrogant sexist pig. Now you want his company?_ The smugness in Zekrom's voice was almost unbearable. It was worse for me to find that I didn't have a retort.

When I didn't respond, my partner chose to comfort me. _We will find him, Carrie. Even if I have to drop in and talk to him myself. But the last time I saw him, he was heading this way. Maybe he will pass by close to here. I will descend, and if I see him approach, I will tell you._

That was why I loved Zekrom. We would tease each other on a regular basis, but it was never malicious, and never reached that point. And if I felt sensitive about something, he would never push it. It was why I could trust him so much.

_Thanks, Zekrom,_ was all I could say. I settled down to wait.

Now that I wasn't running, I realised a couple of things: one, that I was really sweaty and probably smelled awful; and two, I needed to look at the wound I'd taken in the fight. I slid one hand under my armour to check on it; my fingers came back bloodied. Damn. The cut felt shallow, though, and it stung more than anything else. It probably wasn't anything too serious, but I would have to check on it properly when I got the chance, maybe once Altaïr and I found the Assassins' Bureau.

Altaïr and I. Huh. That was definitely a phrase I'd never expected to use, even after meeting him. Maybe Zekrom was right, and we _were_ getting to know each other. He had definitely learned something about me today.

It didn't take too long for Zekrom to inform me that the Assassin in question was fairly close to where I was hiding. _In fact, he's almost following the route you took,_ he told me with apparent amusement. _How are you going to meet him? Can you climb down into the street?_

_Bad idea,_ I decided. _I'd probably miss him, knowing my luck. Or I'd fall off the ladder and break a leg or something. I'll get him to come up here._

_Shall I fly to him?_

_No way,_ I told him. _You want to scare the living daylights out of everyone?_

_What are you going to do, then? You cannot stay up here all night waiting for him to find you._

He had a point, I had to admit. But I didn't want to risk trying to find him myself – not only was there the slim but plausible possibility of running into the same guards who had chased me up here in the first place, I was very likely to get hopelessly lost. Ruefully, I thought of my Flying-type Pokémon – Staraptor, Pidgeot, Tropius and Sigilyph – all of whom would be perfect for this. All I had here were land-based Pokémon and a very large dragon...

_Wait. I've got an idea._ Clambering cautiously into the open, I fished out Riolu's Poké Ball and pressed down on the button, letting her out.

Riolu looked quizzically at me. _'Rio?'_

Despite the predicament I was in, I felt a warm tenderness at seeing Riolu. I had only caught her fairly recently, but already we had a bond that went beyond that I felt with most of my Pokémon. Part of it was due to her loving nature, part of it was due to the fact that she was relatively young and thus I saw her as my little girl, and part of it was something else entirely. Like me, Riolu could sense the emotions of others. It was a trait all of her species shared – according to the Pokédex, they 'saw' emotions in the form of ripples. It was something to do with 'Aura' – a form of energy shared by all sentient beings, that could be sensed and manipulated by some Pokémon like Medicham and Riolu's evolved form, Lucario. Apparently some humans could do so too; in fact, that was Leo's explanation for why I could sense emotions. I doubted it, though. I didn't 'see' emotions like Riolu or Lucario did – it was more like I was _living_ them. Still, the similarity of my ability to Riolu's was enough for me to have come to trust her more than most of my team. Plus, the famed athleticism of her species would come in handy for my idea.

'Riri,' I began, dropping to her level, 'I need you to do something for me. Do you think you can track down Altaïr and bring him up here to me?'

The little Fighting-type looked around us, taking in the vast expanse of buildings, and gave me a withering look. I got what she meant.

'I know it's a long way, Riri, but you're the only one I can ask. Have you been around Altaïr for long enough to recognise his Aura?'

Riolu thought for a moment, then nodded.

'Do you think you could distinguish it from the crowd?' It was a big ask, especially for a Riolu, but I was certain it was possible in theory. Riolu seemed to have an unusually strong mastery of Aura abilities, something demonstrated by her ability to use the move Aura Sphere – a move that only a few Pokémon like Dialga, Palkia and Togekiss could learn, but that Riolu shouldn't be able to use until evolving into Lucario. If anyone could find Altaïr, it would be my Riri.

Again, she thought, then nodded decisively. She was nervous, but so determined to help me it almost brought tears to my eyes. I didn't deserve such loyalty, not after what had happened to me, what I had done.

_Don't think about it. Don't think about it._

I grasped my friend's little hand in silent thanks. 'Be careful. Don't get lost. And do anything you have to to get him to follow you, even if it means dragging him up here.'

Riolu grinned at me, gave a quick ironic salute, and turned to face the city. For a minute or so, she stood in silence, perfectly still. I waited until she suddenly sprinted off across the roof before retreating into the little shelter, where I could let my smile slide. I wasn't worthy of the love my team showed for me. Even if they insisted for the rest of my life that it wasn't my fault, that I couldn't have fought it, the guilt and the nightmares would never leave me. The monster I had become would always dwell within me, waiting for its chance to burst free once more, and this mess I was in now just reminded me of it.

_'I am always with you, little one.'_

_Shut up,_ I thought viciously. I couldn't silence it entirely, though, because I knew the voice was right.

* * *

Altaïr, when he arrived, a very happy Riolu at his side, didn't look pleased to see me.

In hindsight, I had to admit that greeting him with my usual 'Hey' was probably not the best idea. He responded with the kind of look that would usually be reserved for signalling someone's imminent death.

Riolu winced and clambered into the shelter to hide. How I wished I could do the same.

'Sorry?' I tried.

That turned out to be an even worse idea. Altaïr appeared to be incapable of speaking until I climbed out onto the roof, at which point he exploded, 'What in blazes did you think you were doing?'

I didn't have a sensible answer for that, so I shrugged.

'You were a fool!' he burst out.

'I was helping a man in need!'

'Yes, by drawing every soldier in the vicinity towards us!' The Assassin was almost incoherent with rage, but I had to admire his control. Even while spitting fire at me, his voice was pitched so that it wouldn't alert anyone to our presence. 'You could have got us both killed!'

'I didn't mean for that to happen,' I protested.

'But it happened! Your actions left five men unconscious right by the gate. Now every guard in the city will be suspicious.' He prodded me hard in the shoulder. 'Worse still, you let them see you! If they see you again—'

'Oh, what, so I was supposed to kill them?' I burst out. 'Is that what you would have done? Taken their lives, even though yours wasn't in any danger?'

'No – I would have not interfered in something that did not concern me!'

Now I stared at him in unconcealed shock. 'You would have let them keep hurting that man? Just to save your own skin?'

'To keep you alive!' he snarled. 'If you die, I lose any hope of redemption. Did you think about that at all? Did you even consider the risk of provoking four armed guards? You were lucky those on the gate did not see you before that man alerted them. You could have got us both killed.'

He shook his head in disgust. 'Your actions have consequences. Try thinking about that.'

I glared coldly at him. 'Like Al Mualim said for you to do?'

That shut him up. I felt bad, but took advantage of his silence to snap, 'I did the right thing. You would have done exactly the same if I hadn't been there. You know it.'

'Not as you did,' he shot back.

'You would,' I insisted. 'You'd have done exactly the same thing. I did what was right.'

I turned my back on him. 'I'll admit, in hindsight, it wasn't the smartest thing to do. I know that. But it was _right_.'

Silence fell over the rooftop for a while, broken only by our breathing and the sound of the breeze. Finally, the Assassin stepped in front of me and fixed me with a glare.

'Do not do that again,' was all he said. But I knew that I had got through to him, at least a little. That alone gave me the strength to unbend my pride and nod slightly in acceptance.

''kay,' I whispered.

He turned away from me. 'Come on. Bureau. Otherwise we will be wandering through the night.'

'All right.' I turned back to the little wooden shelter. 'You can come out now, Riri.'

The little Fighting-type showed herself, looking relieved that the arguing had ceased – for the moment, anyway. I picked her up and gave her a hug. 'Thanks, Riri. I knew you'd do it.' Then I shifted her onto her favourite perch on my shoulder and turned back to the Assassin. 'So where is this Bureau?'

'North. Towards the middle of the city.'

'OK. Hang on...' I began to search my pockets.

The Assassin gave me a look. 'What are you doing?'

'Looking for...' Just then, 'Got it!' My fingers found what I was after, and I held out my hand, palm up, to show him. 'Compass.'

'What?'

_Ah. Of course. No magnetics._ Mentally, I cursed myself. I really was terrible at this whole time-travel thing.

_No matter, Carrie. You'll learn._

Zekrom. _I hope so, pal. I don't want to end up with an angry Dialga knocking on my door. That's if we get home._

_We will,_ he insisted. _I told you, we will return home. Have faith._

_Sure, Zekrom,_ I said tiredly. In answer to Altaïr's question, I explained, 'It shows you where north is. If I hold it like this—' I held my palm flat, the compass resting face up, '—that red arrow points north. And if I turn it like so...' With my other hand, I spun the compass round so the pointer rested over the 'N' symbol. 'There. Now I can see what direction is what. See?'

Altaïr peered closer, intrigued. 'How does it work?'

'I don't know. It just does,' I lied. I closed my hand over the instrument and pointed behind me. 'North thataway. Let's go.'

'Over the roofs?' If I had been able to see the Assassin's face, I was almost certain I would see a raised eyebrow.

I raised an eyebrow of my own. 'If you want to fall splat onto the ground. Those streets are wide, you know. I for one certainly don't want to risk missing a jump and breaking a leg. Or my neck.'

In answer, a small smirk appeared on the Assassin's lips. Moving faster than I would have thought him capable of, he took a run up to the edge of the roof behind me and leapt right across the divide, landing perfectly atop the adjacent building. With a flourish, he turned back to me.

All I could manage for a moment was an astounded laugh. The only words I was able to find were, 'How on earth did you do that?'

'Skill,' he called back to me.

'Rubbish,' I scoffed. 'There's no way you could do that naturally. Or are you half-Spoink or something?'

As though in answer, Riolu jumped off my shoulders and took a massive leap of her own, her little body almost appearing to float through the air before she too landed safely. A huge grin lit up her face.

This time, all I could manage was, 'Fine, I take it back. Half-Lucario.'

Riri laughed in delight, waving her little arms at me. Even Altaïr appeared to chuckle quietly at her innocent joy.

I shook my head in slight embarrassment, but I was smiling too. 'I think I've just been owned by a baby Riolu.'

* * *

Our rooftop trek across the city was a little longer than I think Altaïr would have liked. After I had shot down his suggestion that I just jump across the yawning gaps between the buildings, the Assassin had grudgingly agreed to find me an easier route. Unfortunately for me, his 'easier route' consisted of slightly shorter jumps that if misjudged would easily result in several broken bones. He didn't offer to carry my bag either, which would have helped massively. I suspected he was just doing it to spite me, after my cock-up at the city gate, but I didn't say it out loud. I didn't want to have him shouting at me again.

At least Riolu and Simisage were being more sympathetic. Noticing that I was having trouble, Simi had popped out of his Poké Ball to help and offer moral support, and Riri had readily agreed with him. Simisage would catch my bag when I threw it across the gap ahead of me, and both Pokémon stood on the other side, offering encouragement and presumably promising to grab hold of me if I fell, for which I was grateful. The slightly mocking looks I was getting from the Assassin were less welcome, especially when he claimed he needed to 'scout out' the area ahead. He had then proceeded to scale a very high tower, perch on what appeared to my eyes to be an impossibly narrow wooden beam at almost the very top for a while, and clamber back down to my level. All that he did in the space of a few minutes, prompting me to inquire as to whether he was half-Ambipom instead. The smug quirk of his lips said it all. By the time the sun was just slipping below the horizon, I was struggling not to thump him.

I restrained myself, though. Just. Partly because I didn't fancy picking a fight with a man armed with a longsword and a scary retractable blade while on top of a rather tall building, but mostly because said armed man informed me that we had reached the Assassins' Bureau.

'Where?' I looked around me stupidly, at which point Altaïr gave me the kind of look that only Leo had ever given me, the one that indicated that he thought that I was a moron.

'Obviously it is not conspicuous, otherwise we would be discovered,' he said. 'Follow me.' He set off across the roof, making a leap towards another building. It was pretty much indistinguishable from the no doubt countless others in the city, except for one glaring fact.

'Is that it?' I asked, pointing down at the building the Assassin was now stood on.

He nodded curtly. 'Obviously.'

'There isn't a door.' Or any windows. Or any other means of entry that I could see.

Again with the look. 'Of course not. Otherwise anyone could walk in.' He shot me a scathing look and gestured. 'We enter from above. See?'

Yes, now I saw. A wooden grating made up one part of the roof, while the stone part bore a crest similar to the one I had seen on the banners at Masyaf's fortress. I gathered that this was the Assassins' symbol – a somewhat triangular shape, except curved at the bottom and stylised with flecks at the sides and a flecked curve underneath. There was a large gap in the grating, and I guessed that that was the entrance point.

'Come on. Jump.'

I looked over at Altaïr, then the gap between us. It was wider than those I had managed before.

Riolu leapt across, followed by Simisage. Both looked at me encouragingly.

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. The stupid thing was, if it had been a jump on the ground, I would have been fine. How many times had I played at that as a child, leaping from shadow to shadow, pretending the space between was a vast chasm? Hadn't I climbed to the top of Mount Coronet? Hadn't I ascended Dragonspiral Tower in the Unova region, almost reaching the clouds? Or stood right above a deep crevasse in the ground, high up in Team Plasma's castle, watching from the throne room as N flew away with Reshiram, out of my life? And yet...

I shook my head. 'No. I'm not risking my neck with that.'

'Just jump.' The Assassin was unmistakably irritated.

'I can't.'

He muttered something that I suspected was something along the lines of 'For crying out loud'. And then something that sounded suspiciously like 'Women'.

I wasn't having _that_! _Right,_ I thought. My fear overridden by anger, I took a few running steps towards the edge, and pushed off.

For what must have only been a second or so, I flew through the evening air, breeze blowing my hair back, whistling past my bow and the hilt of my sword. I flew, oblivious to the drop below me, entirely focused on my goal: to reach the other side and thump that chauvinistic pig right in the—

'Oof!' The sudden pain in my midriff was the first clue that I had fallen slightly short of my destination. The second clue was the small hands grasping each of my wrists in an attempt to stop me falling – the pair holding my left covered in rough creamy-coloured skin, the ones on my right smaller, furry and blue. My arms and upper torso were resting on rough stone and everything below hanging in space over the street, my legs peddling uselessly in midair. Only the quick actions of Riri and Simi and my hands scrabbling for purchase on the roof kept me from plunging to the ground. It might have been laughable if I wasn't so embarrassed.

A quiet laugh from above my head only served to increase my humiliation. 'Close.' With that, Altaïr grasped the back of my leather armour with one hand and hauled me to safety. Once again, I was astonished at his strength.

As I knelt on the roof, breathing hard, my two Pokémon stood by me, worried. Riolu patted my shoulder awkwardly with one soft paw in an attempt at comfort, while Simi kept hold of my hand. He chittered a question at me. While I couldn't tell exactly what he was asking me, I could guess, and offered a shaky smile.

'I'm OK, Simi. Thank you. Both of you,' I added, reaching for Riolu with my free hand. Making sure to keep my arm well away from the Grass-type's long thorny tail, I hugged them both in gratitude. 'Thanks, guys. Thank you.'

Cool as always, Simisage only offered up a short reply and a smile. Riolu, on the other hand, hugged me back, prompting me to lift her into my arms when I stood.

Altaïr was watching me, impassive, waiting.

We looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of us willing to break the silence. I was fully aware that he had just potentially saved my life, and that angered me. I hated being in the debt of someone else, and that I now, in my mind at least, owed _Altaïr_ of all people was almost more than my pride could stand. But I had to say something.

'Thanks,' I grunted in his direction.

'Be more careful,' was the only response I received before the Assassin moved past me to the wooden grating. I pulled a face at his back – prompting Simisage to poke me in the leg with his barbed tail in admonishment – before following in his wake.

When I was close enough to see Altaïr drop through the open section and land safely on a light grey floor dotted with pillows and rugs, I knew that we had reached safety, at least for now. We had found the Bureau.

* * *

**As always, reviews and constructive criticism very welcome! Until next time.**


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